The Black Dragon
by TequilaTheHun
Summary: Drakon Blackfyre, last scion of House Blackfyre, was raised in secret in the Red Keep, growing up with Rhaegar Targaryen. After the death of Rhaegar and most of his family, Drakon vowed to return the Targaryens to the Iron Throne and to return his house to glory. Never forgive, never forget.
1. Chapter 1 - Born in Blood

**The Black Dragon**

**Hey all! So, this is a fanfic that I've been working on for a while, now. I borrowed several elements from Game of Thrones: Ascent (which I HIGHLY recommend you all play). This is my first fanfic on this site, so constructive criticism is welcome. Enjoy!**

The maester entered the darkened chamber, closing the wooden door behind him. The chain he wore around his neck rattled slightly as he walked over to a desk at the room's far end that was lit by several candles. He carried a large, leather-bound book in his arms, and, after sitting down, he placed it on the table. The cover was crimson, with a black, three-headed Dragon in the centre.

Opening it, the maester flipped through its pages, seeing several masterful drawings and a brief series of genealogical and biographical information for several names. He then came to a blank page, and noted that less than half of the book's pages were filled. His purpose here was to rectify that. Taking a quill in hand, he dipped the end into an inkwell before writing at the end of the previous entry.

_Drakon Blackfyre, the first of his name, born to Maelys I Blackfyre and unnamed prostitute in Essos in the 258__th__ year after Aegon's Landing. Black of hair with silver streak, amber of eyes. Strong of body and cunning of mind. Wed to Jocelyn Flowers at Ashford in the Reach_.

Pausing to dip his quill into the inkpot once more, the maester continued writing.

_It is commonly believed that the house of Blackfyre, an offshoot of house Targaryen, died out with the death of its last male member, Maelys I, commonly known as 'Maelys the Monstrous', twenty three years before the death of Aerys II. As maester of the hold Dragon's Rest, I, Lucas, will chronicle the life of my lord, Drakon, the current head of House Blackfyre. _

_ The life of Drakon Blackfyre begins in Essos, where his father, Maelys, the latest and, ultimately, the last of the Blackfyre Pretenders to the Iron Throne, had marshalled his forces along with eight other co-conspirators. While on campaign, Maelys fathered a son with one of the countless prostitutes that followed his army's camp. He allowed the prostitute to foster the boy, wanting to continue the Blackfyre name. _

_ Maelys was slain in battle by Barristan Selmy, one of the greatest knights in the Seven Kingdoms, forty years ago on the Stepstones, a series of islands that lay between Dorne and Essos, and his rebellion was smashed only a few years later. The events of that battle are where my lord Drakon's story truly begins. _

_**Forty years ago; the Stepstones…**_

__Barristan Selmy watched as Maelys Blackfyre, commonly known as 'Maelys the Monstrous', collapsed onto the ground, gurgling as blood began to seep from his mouth. Selmy withdrew his blade from the pretender's throat, and only a few moments later, the last of the Blackfyres perished. All around him, the battle continued to rage, but the remaining men of the Golden Company slowly began to surrender once they realized that their commander was dead.

Ser Barristan looked down once more at the corpse of Maelys, at the shrunken, disfigured second head that sprouted from his neck. Called 'the Monstrous', Maelys was accused of having devoured his own twin while still in his mother's womb, making him a kinslayer even before his birth. No matter his origins, the last Blackfyre had taken arms against the true king of Westeros, but it looked as if his rebellion had ended.

"Ser Barristan!" a voice called to him from nearby. The knight turned to seek out the voice's owner, and was met by the sight of two young men approaching. The one had a head of golden hair and a serious gaze with a suit of armour covered in blood, while the other had a head of silver hair and violet eyes with lesser armour. "Ser Barristan, the day is ours!" the silver-headed youth said with obvious excitement.

"That is it, prince Aerys" Barristan replied. Turning to the golden-haired man, he said "Well fought, Tywin".

"You as well" Tywin Lannister replied. "Come, let us go to the enemies' encampment. There are certainly spoils to be taken".

Ser Barristan then accompanied his friends through the battlefield, seeing what remained of the Golden Company surrendering to the royal army. Eventually, the trio found their way to the enemies' camp, where countless soldiers and knights were already taking the liberty of plundering the tents of valuables and whatever women were present. None stood in the way of the Targaryen prince and the two knights as they entered the largest tent in the camp, the one having previously belonged to the now-late Maelys Blackfyre.

They were surprised at what they found, to say the least.

The tent had the standard trappings for one who would aspire to become king of Westeros. The Blackfyre banners and various furs and treasures gave it a distinctively royal feeling. However, it was what sat in the centre of the tent that caught the three young men's eyes: a raven-haired woman in simple clothes kneeling in front of a small child that stood in front of her and laughed as she played with him. The woman noticed that people had come into the tent, and immediately stood up as she held the child close.

"You won't get him!" she cried, brandishing a knife. "I swear, if any one of ya tries to take him, I'll slice off your cock and stuff it into the other's throat!"

Despite the woman's threat, and the knife she wielded, she presented no real threat to neither Ser Barristan nor his friends. After a moment of silence, Tywin Lannister approached the woman, who waved her knife at him threateningly. The golden-haired man seemed to ignore her threat as he drew his own knife and stabbed her in the throat as he pushed her onto the floor.

The child then began to wail in fear as Tywin began to turn his attention towards him. "Wait!" Aerys cried out, stopping his friend. Kneeling in front of the child, the Targaryen prince ran a hand through his head of black hair, eventually finding a small patch of silver. Ser Barristan looked at the child, at the small bit of silver hair, and said "It cannot be".

Aerys turned to look at him. "It is, Ser Barristan. Though this boy does not possess the full blood of the Dragon, he appears to be the son of Maelys Blackfyre".

"And the woman?" Barristan asked, glancing at her bloodied corpse.

"Probably some whore that the pretender brought to his bed" Tywin said contemptuously as he wiped the blood off of his dagger.

"We should bring him with us when we return to King's Landing" Aerys said.

Both Barristan and Tywin were completely shocked. "My prince", Ser Barristan began, "surely your father would not consent to allowing a traitor's bastard to live amongst your family?"

"He is my family" the prince replied. "The Blackfyres are Targaryen descendants, if you recall. Even if he is a bastard, he is still of my blood, and I will not allow him to die because of his father's choices".

Barristan exchanged a glance with Tywin as the young prince stood up, the child in his arms. "Ser Barristan, I am placing the boy in your charge" he said as he passed the boy over to the knight. The knight held the child in his arms, and he looked into his amber eyes. As the three had been talking, the child continued to wail and moan in fear, but as he looked at Ser Barristan, he calmed, clearly taking some comfort in the knight's presence.

"We must ensure that his existence is kept between us and my family" Aerys said. "If the Seven Kingdoms knew that a Blackfyre remained alive, they would call for his death. The world must believe that the Blackfyre line has ended here, on this day, by your hand, Ser Barristan".


	2. Chapter 2 - Brother to a Dragon

**Apologies for the shortness of this chapter; I didn't realize how small this bit was until I started separating the story. **

_Ser Barristan honoured his prince's wishes, and the three men soon returned to Westeros. The king allowed the boy to live, but commanded that he be raised secretly, and that he was never to leave the Red Keep. He was given the name Drakon by the young Aerys, for the prince saw that the child contained the heart and soul of a Dragon within him. _

_ Eventually, Aerys assumed the throne, and the realm prospered for a time. The young Blackfyre child was raised by servants and given an education worthy of a Targaryen descendant. Ser Barristan taught the boy in the art of sword fighting and war, and the child proved to be a prodigy with every known weapon. Whenever he was not learning how to fight, the young Drakon would spend all his time in the vast libraries of the Red Keep, sharpening his mind and expanding his knowledge of history. He and the young prince Rhaegar, though they were only one year apart in age, were as brothers, and the Targaryen prince engendered within young Drakon an undying sense of loyalty to the Targaryen dynasty. _

_**Twenty eight years ago; the Red Keep…**_

__Drakon Blackfyre walked through the Red Keep's vast library, marveling at the countless scores of books and the knowledge contained within them. He was only fourteen years old, but he had had a passion for reading and history for as long as he could remember. His black hair fell down to his shoulders, with a silver streak that ran down the centre from his forehead, and his amber eyes remained one of his most alluring features, according to what the youth had overheard some of the servant girls talking about.

Eventually, he came to a small, out of the way section of the library. Picking a book at random, he sat down on the cold floor and started reading. "The History of Dragonstone as Recorded by Grand Maester Jorqin" he read aloud, running a hand across the leather cover. He then flipped through the pages, reading about the grand fortress of Dragonstone. For centuries now, it had been the seat of the heir apparent to the Iron Throne. Before that, it had been the home of the Targaryen family when Old Valyria had been destroyed in the Doom.

Drakon suddenly heard footsteps, and looked up to see a boy around his age with a head of brilliant silver hair, indigo eyes, and fair features that people traditionally attributed to heroes from the old tales. "Rhaegar!" Drakon cried, closing the book. He stood up, and proceeded to embrace the Targaryen prince. Rhaegar returned the embrace, laughing as he said "It is good to see you, Drakon".

"You as well" the young Blackfyre replied as he took a step back.

"Have you been living down here since I last saw you?" the silver-haired Targaryen prince asked, glancing at the nearby shelves.

Drakon looked down at the floor, holding one of his arms. "The king commanded that I stay out of all the common areas. He believes that my presence will be a disruption to his rule".

Rhaegar nodded solemnly. "When I asked about you, he said that if people knew about your existence, then you could be turned into a spy for his enemies".

Drakon looked back at his friend. "But I won't!" he said with all the conviction he could muster. "I owe your father my life. It's just that… he seems to become more paranoid every day". The young Blackfyre then turned around, finding himself unable to face Rhaegar after what he had just admitted. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…"

"It's alright" Rhaegar said soothingly, placing a hand on Drakon's shoulder. "My father is a good man; he is merely ill". He then turned Drakon around and firmly placed both hands on his relative's shoulders. "One day, I will be king. When that day comes, you won't have to live in exile down here. I think of you as a brother, and you should have a life outside of this keep's walls. No matter how distant our relations, you are a Targaryen. You will always be one of us".

The two then embraced once more before diving into whatever books they could find.


	3. Chapter 3 - Drakon's Greatest Failure

**Thanks for all the favs/follows everyone! Enjoy! **

_Drakon and Rhaegar were almost inseparable during childhood. But, as the years went on, and as they both grew into men, Rhaegar's responsibilities grew as well. Though Aerys Targaryen, as he plunged further and further into the depths of madness and paranoia, forbade Drakon from ever emerging from the lower levels of the Red Keep, the last Blackfyre continued to train in the art of war and enhance his knowledge. _

_ Eventually, it would be none other than Rhaegar Targaryen himself who instigated the infamous rebellion of Robert Baratheon some nineteen years ago. The Prince of Dragonstone had absconded with Lyanna Stark, sister to Eddard and betrothed of Robert Baratheon. The matter of Lyanna Stark is still debated to this day. Some say that she was kidnapped and brutally raped by the crown prince, while others say that she ran away with him. _

_ Nevertheless, Robert would lead House Baratheon, along with the houses Stark, Tully, and Arryn into open rebellion against the rule of Aerys II. The Rebellion claimed the lives of Rhaegar and the near entirety of the Targaryen family and saw an end to their rule, culminating in the Sack of King's Landing by none other than Tywin Lannister, who had been an ally of the crown in the preceding years. _

_**Nineteen years ago; the Red Keep…**_

Drakon Blackfyre felt the sweat run down his face as he practiced with his sword. Ser Barristan had given it to him on his last Nameday as a reward for the dedication and skill he had shown in his training. The last of the Blackfyres swung his blade back and forth, slicing it through several imaginary opponents. There was no danger of accidentally hurting anyone else; Drakon was a practiced enough swordsman, and the room he was presently practicing in was empty.

Having spent his entire life in the lower levels of the Red Keep, Drakon was something of an expert on its corridors and rooms, and knew the perfect places in which he could practice with his new blade.

Drakon was now twenty three years old; he was taller than most men, and years of training and physical exercise resulted in a bulky and muscular physique. His raven-black hair ran past his shoulders, and the silver streak was more pronounced as a result. He also possessed a full black beard, and his amber eyes blazed with an inner fire that would outshine most men's.

Suddenly, Drakon heard a commotion coming from nearby. It almost sounded like the clashing of swords, but the young man knew that the Red Keep was secure. From what little he could glean from Rhaegar and Barristan before they had left, he knew that the rebels couldn't possibly have breached the city walls; Rhaegar himself had left in order to marshal the royal army and crush the rebels. Walking out of his makeshift practice room, Drakon looked around the darkened corridor for signs of fighting. A clanging sound carried from a nearby staircase that led to the main level of the Keep, and as he slowly approached, an armoured man plummeted down the stairs, crashing onto the floor with a thud.

Drakon saw that he was a Targaryen soldier, and as he crouched down beside the man, he saw that he was bleeding from several wounds. The soldier suddenly gripped Drakon's arm and struggled to speak as blood filled his mouth. "The Lannisters", he said, pausing to cough up some blood, "the Lannisters! They've… betrayed us!"

Drakon shook his head in disbelief. "But… that's not possible! The Lannisters are our allies! They would never betray us!"

The soldier gurgled slightly. "Tywin Lannister… came with his army. The… the king… opened the gates. The Lannister army… the city… the city is burning!" The man then pulled Drakon close, and proceeded to whisper in his ear "The royal family. Save… the royal family!"

"I will" Drakon promised before he felt the soldier's hand fall to the ground. Looking down, he could see that the man was dead. Clenching his fist, Drakon said "Those filthy Lannisters!" Growing up, he had learned from King Aerys that Tywin Lannister had killed his mother when they and Ser Barristan had found him, and that he would have killed Drakon, too, had the king not decided to bring him back to King's Landing.

Suddenly, Drakon heard someone coming down the stairs. Standing up, he saw a Lannister soldier, a bloody sword in hand, approaching. Tightening his grip on his own weapon, Drakon shouted as he charged the other man. He brought his sword down in an overhead chop, only for the Lannister to block the attack. Taking a step back, the Blackfyre allowed the soldier to make a thrusting attack with his sword. Drakon easily swatted the blade aside before slamming his entire weight into the other man, knocking him to the floor.

The Lannister soldier tried to bring his sword up, but Drakon pinned the man's wrist to the ground with his boot. As the man lay there, helpless, the last Blackfyre looked into his eyes, feeling the fury boiling within him. He then placed his other boot on the man's throat, pressing down with all his strength. The Lannister man struggled to breathe, desperately trying to dislodge Drakon's boot with his other hand, but to no avail. The man suddenly went limp as Drakon heard a cracking sound, and knew that he was dead.

Glancing at the dead Targaryen soldier, Drakon Blackfyre knew his duty at that moment. Rhaegar had been his childhood friend, his brother; he would do his duty and ensure the safety of Rhaegar's wife and children. He proceeded to briskly ascend the winding stairs until he reached the main level of the Red Keep. He had not been in this part of the castle since he was a child, but he had memorized the layout. The royal apartments were in Maegor's Holdfast, and if Drakon remembered correctly, he wasn't far from it.

Making his way through the corridors, Drakon found Lannister soldiers everywhere, fighting whatever opposition they found. Any who were foolish enough to challenge him were swiftly dealt with; none would stand in Drakon's way.

Eventually, after having entered the castle-within-a-castle that was Maegor's Holdfast, Drakon found himself in the royal apartments. Reaching Princess Elia's quarters, the last Blackfyre blanched at what he saw within. Princess Elia and her children were, indeed, within the chamber, but they were not alone. Two men were there also, and one of them was taller than any man Drakon had ever seen. Though he was garbed in full armour with the visor of his helmet down, Drakon knew who it was.

Ser Gregor Clegane, otherwise known as 'The Mountain', whom Rhaegar had knighted only a year earlier. The other man Drakon did not recognize, and he watched as the two men savagely butchered Rhaegar's family. The Mountain took Rhaegar's infant son, Aegon, and proceeded to bash the baby's head against the wall, killing it instantly. As he did so, the other man found Rhaegar's young daughter, Rhaenys, and dragged her out from under her bed. The girl was whimpering and crying in terror, and the man then stabbed her over and over again with his dagger, drenching the floor in blood.

Hearing a scream, Drakon looked back at the Mountain, and was horrified to see that the giant man was raping princess Elia. Though every fibre of his being was screaming at him to go into that room and avenge Rhaegar's family, who did not deserve any of this savagery, Drakon knew that to do that would be to condemn himself to die. Though he was a skilled swordsman, and could most likely defeat the other man, he knew that he was no match for the Mountain.

As the tears ran down his face, Drakon clenched his fists in anger and proceeded to run. He ran through the Red Keep, knowing that he failed. He had failed Rhaegar, his friend and brother, and he had failed his family. Though he felt his grief overtaking him, he knew that he couldn't escape the city alive without a disguise. Finding a dead Lannister soldier, he stripped the man of his armour and put it on himself. He then returned to the lower levels of the Red Keep, finding one of the castle's innumerable hidden tunnels and entering it, the image of Rhaegar's family being butchered forever burned into his memory.


	4. Chapter 4 - A New Purpose

**Here's the next chapter. Enjoy!**

_Drakon managed to flee the city, but he would never truly escape the Sack of King's Landing, for the events of that day haunted him for his entire life. He later learned that Rhaegar, his childhood friend and brother, had died that same day on the Trident, slain by Robert Baratheon, and that Rhaegar's father, King Aerys, had died in the Red Keep at the hands of his own Kingsguard, Jaime Lannister. Drakon then swore that, one day, he would avenge the Targaryen family and kill the traitorous Lannisters and Robert Baratheon. _

_ He then travelled to Essos, spending time in all the Free Cities. He enhanced his already considerable proclivity for warfare, learning the ways of the Braavosi Water Dancers along with almost every known style of fighting. He also learned everything he could about history, in the spirit of his fallen brother Rhaegar, as well as the art of rule, the secrets of intrigue, battle strategy, and so on. He even managed to acquire two Valyrian steel weapons: one, a double-headed battle axe with a thick haft, and the other, a sword with the handle and cross guard in the likeness of dragons. _

_ One night, as he slept, the last of the Blackfyres had a vision, a vision of a black, three-headed Dragon flying over Westeros before entering a black storm cloud and emerging as a beautiful stag. _

_ Lord Blackfyre was well-versed in Targaryen and Blackfyre history, and knew full well that many members of both houses had been reported to experience visions of the future. Interpreting that the time had finally come to return to his homeland, Drakon made his way back to Westeros, to the Stormlands. While there, he made the acquaintance of one Sebastion Storm, a bastard born to a commoner father and a noble mother. The two men were alike in almost every respect; Sebastion was tall, muscular, intelligent, inclined to fighting, and he even possessed amber eyes. The one difference between them was Drakon's streak of silver in his hair._

_ The two men became fast friends, and Drakon learned about the other man's life. Sebastion's father was currently serving in the Night's Watch, and his mother had recently passed away from illness. She had treated him well, raising him in her house as he grew up. Remembering the vow he had made on the day of the Sack of King's Landing, Drakon made one of the most difficult decisions of his life and murdered Sebastion Storm. _

_ Burning his body, Drakon took Sebastian's name for his own, passing himself off as a superbly skilled warrior and rather intelligent noble bastard from the Stormlands. It would become his identity, a cloak that he would shield himself with until the day came when he could openly declare himself and restore the Targaryens to the Iron Throne. _

_ He spent the next fifteen years acquiring as many contacts and associates that he could, earning favours from common sellswords, knights, merchants, the impoverished, and even minor nobility. One of these was a fairly wealthy merchant from the Reach, Jocelyn Flowers. A fellow bastard, Jocelyn's noble father had not raised her as one of his own, and as a result, she had been forced to live her own life. She did quite well for herself, becoming a merchant of some renown by the time she and Drakon met. _

_ They fell in love, and were married in Ashford in the Reach. On their wedding night, in a moment of complete love and trust, Drakon revealed his true identity to Jocelyn, telling her everything about his past. Miraculously, she accepted him for who he was, and went on to aid him in his efforts. They had three children, a girl and twin boys, and named them Jayne, Edric, and Edwyn respectively. The family enjoyed many years of happiness as Drakon continued his work, until one day, when Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King, contacted Drakon for a special task. _

_**Three years ago; the Red Keep…**_

Drakon Blackfyre walked through the halls of the Red Keep at a brisk pace, his long, entirely-black hair and black cloak fluttering behind him. He had not been in King's Landing, let alone the Red Keep, for seventeen years, and being back was far more surreal than he would have cared for. Everywhere he went, he couldn't help but see Lannister soldiers butchering everyone they could find, and that made Drakon walk all the faster.

Eventually, he arrived in the Great Hall, which housed the Iron Throne. The last time he had been in here, Drakon was barely old enough to speak. He remembered the hall as being far vaster than it actually was, and King Aerys' father sitting on the Iron Throne had scared him.

Now, seeing it as an adult, the Great Hall was still very impressive, but without the Dragon skulls that were kept there by the Targaryens, it was far less intimidating to those who were familiar with the room. There were several people present, nobles and all manner of courtiers in the main space, while there were about six at the far end. Drakon walked across the hall, passing the main crowd. As he walked along, he could tell more about the men at the far end. Four were arranged around the other two, and they were garbed in the gleaming, polished armour of the Kingsguard. One of the two men in the centre was quite old, and Drakon knew that he was Jon Arryn, Hand of the King, and the man who had summoned him to the capital in the first place, and the other, sitting on the throne, was none other than Robert Baratheon, the Usurper himself.

The man who had, almost single-handedly, demolished the Targaryen dynasty and murdered Rhaegar was sitting on the Iron Throne, drinking from a horn of wine. He had black hair and a thick, bushy beard, and a golden crown of interconnected antlers sat on top of his head. Though he was careful not to show anything, Drakon was inwardly disgusted that this fat, whoring drunk was sitting on the Iron Throne. The Usurper did not have any right to be King, nor did he deserve to live any longer.

Nevertheless, Drakon knelt before the Iron Throne as the Usurper said "So you're the one I've heard so much about, eh? Maybe the tales weren't exaggerated".

As he took another drink of wine, Jon Arryn said "We have summoned you here for a task that we feel is suited to your particular… talents. To the northeast of here, on the edge of Blackwater Bay, is a holdfast that is infested with Lysene slavers".

"Gather what men you can, kill all the slavers, and I'll make you a damned lord" the Usurper said, shifting in the Iron Throne.

The comment caused a stir in the crowd, and Drakon could hear them all whispering. "Your Grace" a voice called. Someone then emerged from the crowd and knelt beside Drakon. He could see that the man was clad in armour, so he must have been a knight, given his presence amongst all those nobles and courtiers.

"Who are you, then?" the Usurper asked.

"Ser Hugo Flint, Your Grace" the man replied.

"And what is it you want? A part in the spoils?"

"No, Your Grace" Flint replied. "My wife, she… she was killed by the slavers when they tried to snatch her. I don't want any glory, and I don't want any riches. What I do want is to kill every last one of the scum who killed my wife".

"Hah!" the Usurper cried. "I like you. Fine, I'll let you go along with Storm here. Wipe the bastards out, and I'll reward you both".

With that, Drakon and the knight walked out of the Great Hall together. As they went along, Drakon said "I'm sorry about your wife, Ser Hugo".

The other man nodded his head in thanks. "The day I lost her was the worst in my life". After a moment, he asked "Are you married?"

"Yes" Drakon replied. "And if I lost my wife, I would want the exact same thing you do". Turning to look at the knight, he added "I promise you that those men will die, each and every one of them".

"Thank you Ser" Hugo replied.

Drakon chuckled. "I'm not a knight; I'm just really good at killing people".

"Nevertheless", the other man said, stopping him with a hand on his shoulder, "the King said that he would make you a Lord". He then drew his sword and knelt before Drakon. "I hereby pledge myself to your service. From this day until my last, I am your Sworn Sword, to obey you now and always".

Drakon was slightly taken aback by the action; the last thing he expected was for a Knight of the realm to swear himself to his service. "Very well. Ser Hugo, I accept you into my service. I swear by the gods that any command I give will not force you to break your solemn vows".

Ser Hugo then stood, sheathing his sword. They then resumed their walk, making their way out of the Red Keep. As they did so, Drakon breathed a sigh of relief upon leaving his former home. While the Usurper may have been a fat drunk who spent his days whoring and gorging himself, he was still recognized by all the Great Houses as King, and Drakon would have to move carefully in order to ensure his enemy's downfall.


	5. Chapter 5 - Reborn in Blood

**Thanks for the favs/follows! Enjoy!**

_After acquiring horses, the two men left King's Landing and rode towards the Slavers' Keep. Drakon sent word to his family of his new task, and he then set about calling the necessary soldiers to him. Over a decade of earning favours and associates meant that he had a significant pool of resources to draw upon: sellswords, Hedge Knights, Smallfolk who were talented with weaponry and looking for a fight, they all agreed to follow him. _

_ As they travelled, Drakon and Ser Hugo began to form a close bond of friendship. The two men upheld similar notions of honour and justice, and Drakon found an unlikely companion in the other man. _

Drakon looked out at the Slavers' Keep. Night had fallen, and it appeared as if most of them were either asleep or not at all concerned of a possible assault, as there were only a small number of guards posted along the wall. "It seems that this lot isn't expecting an attack" someone said from behind him.

Drakon turned to see Ser Hugo, dressed in full plate armour. He himself was wearing full armour as well, and he was also holding his double-headed battle axe in his right hand. "It would seem so, Ser Hugo".

"An impressive weapon, that" the Knight noted, motioning to the axe. "How did you happen upon something so fine?"

Drakon held the weapon up for inspection. The two heads of the axe were practically shining in the dark of night, and the haft was thick and black, with intricate motifs and designs carved into it. "I spent some time in Essos" Drakon explained. "I acquired this while I was there. So far, it is the only Valyrian Steel axe I have come across".

"Valyrian Steel?" Ser Hugo asked, sounding quite impressed. "Does it have a name?"

Drakon nodded before saying "I call it _Dragonbreath_". He then looked back at the keep. "With only a few guards, the time to strike is now". The muscular man then turned around and walked towards the camp he and his men had established. Drakon's years of acquiring friends and allies were beginning to pay off, as he had been able to call close to two hundred men to him, which included Sellswords, Farmers who were talented with swords or the bow, and even several wandering Hedge Knights.

As he approached, the gathered knights and sellswords stood up, sensing that the fighting would start soon. "There are only a few guards posted on the wall", Drakon explained, "and it looks as if most of the slavers are inside, either asleep or eating". Pointing at several bowmen that were standing nearby, he said "You'll kill the guards and stand watch outside; they may have friends nearby. Everyone else, you'll follow me; once we're inside, spread throughout the keep and kill every slaver you can find. If I find any of you having your way with any of the slaves, then I'll cut your cocks off with a rusty blade. Now, let's go kill some slavers!"

Turning around, he proceeded to lead the small army over the kill and toward the Slavers' Keep. As they approached, those among them who were using a bow deftly eliminated the watchmen. The main gate was open, such was the Slavers' audacity, and, upon stepping into the main courtyard, Drakon saw at least ten armed men milling about.

Holding his axe in both hands, the last Blackfyre swung it in an arc, and just as some of the slavers began to take notice, he imbedded one of the heads of the weapon into the nearest man's skull, splitting it in half.

The battle then began in earnest as Drakon's men charged the slavers. One of the Lysene men, having drawn his sword, tried to bring it down on Drakon's head, the same way he had just killed the other slaver. However, the last Blackfyre was far more skilled than the slaver he had killed. Holding his axe horizontally, he brought it up and blocked the other man's sword. He proceeded to kick the slaver in the stomach, knocking the man onto the ground as he swung his axe down and buried it in the man's stomach, killing him.

Looking to the others, Drakon commanded "Spread out! Kill every last one of them!" He then picked one of the nearest doors into the keep and kicked it in. The slavers were caught completely unaware, as Drakon ran across several that weren't even fully dressed as he cut them down with his Valyrian Steel axe.

Eventually, he came to a small room in the keep. The only visible light came from four torches and a hearth, and it illuminated a number of slavers with ornamentation and equipment that had not been present in any others that Drakon had killed. These men must have been the leaders, and the last Blackfyre eagerly moved to slaughter them.

He focused his attention on the nearest man, spinning in a circle and using the built-up momentum to bury his axe into the man's chest. Before he could remove the weapon, however, the others launched their own attack.

Letting go of his axe, Drakon backed away just as one of the slavers would have sliced his hands off. The muscular man managed to grab hold of the one slaver's wrists, pressing him against the wall before using his own sword to slice his throat. As the slaver fell to the floor, the fourth and final man retreated to the lit hearth at the far end of the room as the last Blackfyre easily dispatched the third. Leaving his axe, Drakon briskly walked past the long table that was in the centre of the room and deftly disarmed the slaver chief. Wrapping an arm around the man's throat, he began to squeeze with all of his might before noticing a fine-looking dagger attached to the man's belt.

Taking the dagger in hand, Drakon used it to cut the man's throat. As the lifeless corpse started falling, the muscular man held it up with a firm grip on the man's hair. He watched as the blood sprayed forth onto the white tablecloth, staining it crimson. For several moments, Drakon held the man there, finally letting the corpse fall onto the ground once the flow of blood had stopped. He looked at the crimson tablecloth before appraising each of the four corpses as he ran a hand through his long, black hair. Feeling something strange, he held his fingers close for inspection and saw a black substance on them.

"Oh, fuck the gods!" he growled. Ever since he had killed Sebastion and taken his identity for his own, Drakon had used a special dye from Essos to cover the silver streak in his hair. It would seem that the sweat of battle was slowly making it melt. Realizing that there was nothing he could do about it at that moment, he returned his attention to the corpses.

Relieving each man of his sword, Drakon placed all four of them onto the table so that their tips would intersect with one another. As he placed each blade on the table, he said a name. "The Usurper Robert Baratheon, the Oathbreaker Tywin Lannister, the Kingslayer Jaime Lannister, the Butcher Gregor Clegane". As he placed the last sword, Ser Hugo walked into the room, limping slightly. "It is done", he said. "The slavers are all dead". The Knight then glanced at the four corpses before looking at Drakon himself.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"The King said that he would make me a lord" Drakon replied. Looking down at the blood-stained tablecloth, he said "House Stormheart. Sigil: four silver swords intersecting on a field of crimson. Words: Never Forgive, Never Forget".


	6. Chapter 6 - Family of Dragons

**Onwards! Enjoy!**

_Having killed all the slavers, Drakon returned to Robert Baratheon, who lauded his skill in battle and named him a Lord, the head of his own noble house, and gave him the Slavers' Keep as a holdfast. With a patent of nobility from Lord Arryn, Lord Drakon returned to the keep. After paying the Sellswords in his small army, he invited any and all who would stay and serve him. All of the Knights that were present did so, swearing their fealty, as did most of the Sellswords. Most of the farmers went home, while many of the freed slaves were all too willing to become the first Smallfolk to serve the new Lord. _

_ Among the keep's records, Lord Drakon discovered its history as a Targaryen outpost during their rule. As such, its original name was Dragon's Rest, a name which Lord Drakon decided to keep. He then sent for his family, who arrived a few days later._

Drakon walked through the halls of Dragon's Rest, passing several guards and servants as they continued the task of turning the keep from a slaver's den into a proper holdfast. Eventually, he found himself in the courtyard, which was no less busy than anywhere else in the hold. As he made it to the centre of the courtyard, a few carriages entered through the main gate, followed by his daughter on her black horse, Ebony.

Drakon watched as they came to a stop. He snapped his fingers, catching the attention of a number of guards and servants and motioning toward the carriages. The servants immediately started taking down the personal belongings, while the guards opened the doors to each carriage, allowing their occupants to step onto the ground. A woman stepped out of the lead carriage, thanking one of the guards as he offered his assistance. She was dressed in a simple green travelling gown, which was only enhanced by the full curves of her body, and her angelic face was framed by auburn hair that fell past her shoulders in gently rolling waves.

Drakon approached her, a smile on his face as he wrapped her in his arms and passionately kissed his wife on her ruby lips. "I have missed you, my love" he said at last, still holding her in his arms.

"The children have been asking after you ever since you left" she replied, motioning over to the second carriage.

Drakon looked to see two of his children step out, visibly pleased to breath the fresh air. The muscular man walked over to his eldest child, who had inherited her mother's beauty and wore a simple travelling gown. He easily lifted her off of her horse and onto the ground, eliciting a chuckle from his daughter.

"Father" Jayne replied with a smile, obviously happy to see him as she wrapped her arms around him as best she could.

Drakon then turned to his twin sons, who were only a few years younger than their sister. The boys both had heads of scruffy black hair, and they had both inherited his amber eyes and headstrong attitude. Kneeling down, he ruffled both of their heads before saying "Edric, Edwyn, have you been behaving yourselves?" The boys exchanged a conspiratorial glance before looking at their father and nodding. They then wrapped their arms around him at the same time, and Drakon said "Don't worry; I'll ask your sister later".

He then stood, with both hands on his sons' shoulders as he turned toward the keep proper and said "This is our new home now. What do you think of it?"

Jayne wiped a strand of hair out of her eyes before saying "It's lovely, father, provided that it will look much better than it does now".

Smirking at the comment, Drakon looked down at his twin sons, who both smiled as they gazed at the keep, most likely thinking of the numerous and varied kinds of mischief they could get into. "As a reward for liberating this keep from slavers, the King has made me a Lord. Do you know what that means?"

Jayne was the first to answer, and the look on her face told Drakon everything he needed to know. "That means that… we're now a noble house!"

Edric looked up at him and asked "Is that true?"

"Yes, it is true" Drakon replied, smiling at Jayne and then Edric and Edwyn. "The future Lady and Lords Stormheart". He then saw two men approaching, and said "Ah, here they are". The one man was Ser Hugo, who was dressed in simple black clothes with his sword attached to his belt, and the other man wore the robes and chain of a Maester. They both bowed to Drakon, who said "Ser Hugo, Maester Lucas, may I introduce you to my wife, Jocelyn Stormheart, formerly Flowers, and my children, Jayne, Edric, and Edwyn".

The two men bowed to each of them. Ser Hugo turned to Jocelyn, kissing her hand before saying "It is an honour to finally meet you, my lady. Though I am curious about your name".

Jocelyn smiled politely. "I am a bastard, just like my husband. Bastards from the Reach are all given the surname 'Flowers', but that is now my old name".

"Of course" Ser Hugo replied. "I meant no disrespect".

Jocelyn then turned to the Maester, who appeared to be fairly young for the role. "How long have you been serving here, Maester?"

The black-haired man replied "Seven years, my lady".

"Were you involved with the slave trade, then?"

He shook his head. "No, my lady. As a Maester, I serve the current ruler of this keep. I did nothing more than my duties as student of knowledge and medicine".

"Then you serve my husband now?"

"Yes, my lady. As he is the current lord of this keep and its holdings, I am sworn to serve him".

The answer seemed to satisfy her, and Edric looked at Ser Hugo and said "Father said that you took this keep from slavers".

"Aye, we did" the Knight replied, kneeling down.

"Was it a great battle?" Edwyn asked.

"Yes it was, my lords. Great, but very short. Slavers aren't very good at fighting real warriors. It was over before we could blink".

"I want to be a knight someday!"

"Me to!" Edric said, echoing his brother's sentiment.

"Well, I'm sure that can be arranged" Ser Hugo said. "You both have the looks of great warriors about you".

"Where is Ser Prester?" Drakon asked, looking around the busy courtyard.

"He's training with some men in the practice yard" Ser Hugo answered as he stood up.

"Perfect" Drakon replied. "Bring my sons to him so they can start training". Looking down at the twins, he said "Behave yourselves".

"Yes, father" they both replied in unison.

"Knock him to the ground". With that, Ser Hugo began leading the boys over to the north section of the keep. Calling two guards over, Drakon said "Escort my daughter to her room". After a kiss from both him and his wife, Jayne walked into the keep, flanked by the guards and followed by her handmaiden, Tyana. As they did so, Maester Lucas bowed and took his leave. Turning to his wife, Drakon asked in a hushed voice "Did you bring it?"

Jocelyn nodded. She reached into the lead carriage and produced an object bound in a simple grey cloth. Drakon took it in his hand, pressing it against his chest. "No one was going to take that from me" his wife said, crossing her arms. "I have tricks of my own, you know".

Drakon chuckled. "Don't I know it?" he asked himself sardonically, staring at the object in his hand. What he held was his most treasured possession, something that he would keep safe in his new keep until the day came when he would reveal it to the world. Looking back at his wife, he kissed her once more before asking "Shall I escort you to your new chambers, my lady?"

Jocelyn smiled, taking her husband's arm. "Lead the way, my lord".


	7. Chapter 7 - Hauntings from the Past

**Hello all! So, the reason why I'm publishing this story in a serial (tune in next time!) format is because I'm currently attending my second year of university, and this is the perfect pace for me to maintain in addition to my schoolwork. Also, I've typed up the next eight chapters from the one I publish each day as a sort of buffer; in the event that I don't finish this story before papers/finals are upon me, then I can still publish a chapter a day. Cheers! **

_Lord Drakon and his wife then set themselves to strengthening their new holdings. With Drakon's reputation throughout the Seven Kingdoms, he was able to attract a great many fighting men and capable agents to himself. _

_Jocelyn played a key role in events as well; having lived her entire life wanting to make a name for herself, she had become a well-known and capable merchant. She was instrumental in bringing trade and commerce to the hold of Dragon's Rest, which inevitably increased its population and, therefore, its significance in the Crownlands. _

_ Lord Drakon also gathered an Inner Circle of advisors to himself. As Ser Hugo had been wounded during the battle against the slavers, and was unable to serve as a Sworn Sword, he was made the Captain of the Guard of Dragon's Rest. _

_I was allowed to continue my duties as a Maester, serving as a general advisor as well as being in charge of his children's education. _

_Rona Grey, a spymaster with considerable reach and loyalty to a fault, was brought on to extend Lord Drakon's reach and keep him informed of events. _

_Simon Groat was made Bailiff of Dragon's Rest, advising Lord Drakon of financial, and less than honourable, affairs. _

_A merchant by the name of Alvyn, an associate of Rona's, was brought to Dragon's Rest as an advisor in regards to merchants and the hold's trade relationship with others, a role that saw him in frequent conflict with Simon Groat. _

_Lord Drakon made a point of religious tolerance in his lands; his people could worship whatever gods they believed in, so long as their religion did not disturb the peace in his lands and did not interfere with their service to him. As a result, Lord Drakon's was one of the few holds in the Seven Kingdoms to have both a Godswood, dedicated to the Old Gods of the Children of the Forest, and a Sept, dedicated to the Seven, otherwise known as the New Gods. Lord Drakon's two religious advisors were Gammer Wilde and Septa Eleanor, representing each religion, respectively. _

_Lord Drakon also made it a point to know the loyalties of those serving him, especially his Inner Circle. If he was to help usher a Targaryen onto the Iron Throne, he had to root out any potential opposition within his hold. His wife knew all about his true identity, and fully supported him in his endeavours. Ser Hugo was a Knight of the realm, a man of honour, and while he served King Robert, he too had secret Targaryen sympathies. As for myself, I was sworn to serve the lord of the hold. Rona Grey had proven herself to be completely loyal to Lord Drakon and his family, and she could be trusted with his true loyalties. Simon Groat did not care about whom Lord Drakon truly served, so long as he served himself. Alvyn was a good and honest man, and while he expressed his quiet opposition, he could be trusted to not act against Lord Drakon's interests. Septa Eleanor and Gammer Wilde simply did not care, either way. _

_After several months had passed, and his hold was firmly established, word of his loyalty to the Targaryens had secretly spread, and Lord Drakon was soon to expect a representative. _

Having finished with the affairs of the hold several hours earlier, Drakon and his wife were asleep in their bed. The last Blackfyre took short, ragged breaths as his thick, muscled body glistened with sweat. "No, no" he muttered as his head rolled back and forth across the pillow. "No… get out! Get out!" He then bolted up, unconsciously drawing the dagger he kept beneath his pillow. He sat there for several moments, drawing deep breaths as Jocelyn awoke the same time he did.

Sitting up, she placed her hands on her husband's shoulders. "Are you all right, my love?" she asked.

Drakon did not answer immediately. He continued to stare at the door to their chamber, still holding his dagger. "I was back there" he croaked, the horror of it all rushing back like an unstoppable flood.

"In King's Landing?" Jocelyn asked, already knowing the answer.

Drakon turned to look at her, a tear running down his cheek. He released his hold on the dagger, dropping it on the bed as he rested his head against his wife's shoulder. "I could have saved them" he said, the events of that day as fresh as if it had happened the day before. "I could have saved Rhaegar's family".

"There was nothing you could have done" Jocelyn soothed.

"Wasn't there?" Drakon replied. "Rhaegar was my brother. I should have saved his family. I owed him that much".

"If you had tried to save them, then you would have died as well. You couldn't have faced the Mountain and won". Taking her husband's head in her hands, she lifted it so she could look into his amber eyes. "You did the right thing. You lived to fight another day and avenge Rhaegar and his family. That day will come, I promise you. But the road to vengeance is long, and you will need to be patient in order to cross it".

Drakon meekly nodded, kissing his wife as the effects of the nightmare began to recede.


	8. Chapter 8 - A Bastard and a Bear

_**The following morning…**_

Drakon sat in the Lord's chair in the Great Hall, his hands clasped together as he waited for the representative from House Targaryen to arrive. Beside him sat his wife, whose beauty only seemed to be enhanced by the light of the numerous braziers that dotted the Great Hall.

Eventually, the doors at the far end of the room opened, and as the large room was filled with the sounds of creaking wood, a cloaked man entered, flanked by two guards. He walked to the centre of the room before pulling his hood back, revealing a bearded and most likely middle-aged man. "My Lord", he said, bowing, "I am Ser Jorah Mormont, formerly of Bear Island".

"Ser Jorah" Drakon said, appraising the man, "you were disgraced for attempting to sell men into slavery, yes?"

The other man looked down at the floor, obviously in embarrassment. "Yes" he replied.

"And you serve House Targaryen?"

Ser Jorah looked back at the muscular lord. "I do, yes. I leave for Pentos tonight, but I know that Lord Viserys would want a token of your loyalty".

"I have just that" Drakon said, standing up. He snapped his fingers, and two servants approached. The last Blackfyre walked down the steps in front of the Lord's chair and toward the servants, his crimson cloak with his house's sigil flowing behind him. Taking the bundle in the woman's arms, he handed it to the disgraced Knight. "A banner of my house for His Grace". Turning to the second servant, he took the small stack of books she was holding. "And in honour of Princess Daenerys' impending marriage to Khal Drogo, I have a wedding present: a collection of Songs and Histories of the Seven Kingdoms. After all, the princess should know about her homeland".

"These will be much appreciated" Mormont replied.

Waving the servants away, Drakon stepped close to the other man. "I trust, Ser Jorah", he said in a hushed tone, "that you know I cannot be named. Not yet. The Usurper has far too many spies in far too many places, and the time is not right to reveal myself".

The other man nodded in understanding.

"May you have a safe journey, Ser Jorah" Drakon said. With that, the Knight drew his hood and walked out of the Great Hall, escorted by the two guards he had entered with. Drakon saw Jocelyn walking toward him, and smiled as she took his arm. "That was pleasant enough" his wife noted as they both walked out of the Great Hall.

"Indeed" Drakon agreed. After a moment, he took a deep breath and quietly said "After all these years, it finally looks as if the Targaryens will retake the Iron Throne".

"You almost sound as if you don't believe it" Jocelyn noted.

Drakon smiled at her. "After seventeen years, I almost don't". They then entered the Council chamber, the very same room where Drakon had killed the slaver leaders many months ago. The hearth was burning, and above it was a special mount held four intersecting swords, the sigil of House Stormheart. The long table in the centre of the room was covered with a crimson tablecloth, and seven individuals sat all around it. As Drakon and Jocelyn entered the room, they all rose and bowed, sitting back down as the Lord and Lady Stormheart took their seats at the head of the table.

"What news?" Drakon asked.

Maester Lucas, sitting immediately to his right, produced a sealed letter and handed it to the muscular Lord. "A raven arrived this morning from Lord Arryn".

Drakon saw that the wax seal was that of the Hand of the King. Tearing the letter open, he read it aloud. "A whore named Felyse and her bastard son are making their way to your lands. I must know the boy's hair colour. Jon Arryn". Putting the letter down, he turned to a woman who sat next to his wife. "What do you know of this, Rona?" he asked.

Rona Grey, an old acquaintance, served as his Spymaster, letting him have eyes and ears throughout the Seven Kingdoms. She was a woman in her thirty seventh year, and she wore simple grey clothing with a drawn hood. "Lord Arryn has been making inquiries in the capital of late" the woman replied. "His efforts seem to be directed toward whores and their children".

"Many lords direct their attention at whores", a bald man sitting next to Maester Lucas said sardonically, "though most would be inclined to ignore their children". As the man took a sip from his wineglass, Drakon could see Jocelyn rolling her eyes at his comment. Simon Groat was Drakon's financial advisor, though he often favoured whatever means resulted in the most coin, and his comments often irked everyone around him.

"Nevertheless, Lord Arryn must have a good reason for wanting to know the boy's hair colour" Drakon noted. "Is there any place where they might stay before coming here?"

"There's an inn along the road about two miles south of here" Ser Hugo said. "I'd be willing to bet the boy and his mother would stop there if they were coming here".

Drakon nodded. "I agree. Ser Hugo, take a few men and ride to the inn. Bring me the boy and his mother alive and unharmed".

"Yes, my lord" the Knight replied before standing up and leaving the room.

"What else?" Drakon asked. None of the gathered advisors appeared to have anything to add, except for one. "Rona?"

The Spymaster appeared slightly apprehensive, something which she almost never was, before saying "Your cousin Kirth has arrived, my lord".

Drakon didn't even bother to hide his feelings as he sighed in contempt. He shared a glance with Jocelyn, who appeared to feel just as he did. Technically speaking, Kirth was not his cousin, and everyone in the chamber knew as much. However, to the rest of the world, he was Sebastion Stormheart, a noble bastard from the Stormlands. That had meant contact with Sebastion's family; luckily, they were all so widespread that it had not been an issue in the past. That did not stop Kirth from making clumsy advances on his wife the last time he had visited.

"If Kirth has come all the way from Highgarden, then he's most likely looking to borrow some coin" Drakon dryly theorized.

"If he is here to borrow money, then we'd best send him on his way" Simon Groat said, swirling the wine in his glass. "The hold is doing well, strictly speaking, but our finances can't handle a begging cousin".

As the bald man took another drink, Septa Eleanor chose that moment to speak up. "Perhaps he has come to repair your relationship, my lord".

"Do you really think so, Septa?" Jocelyn asked.

"The Faith teaches that we should forgive those closest to us" the other woman replied, putting her hands on her lap. "Perhaps Kirth is seeking to mend the damage he has done in the past".

"Hah!" the woman sitting next to her exclaimed before taking a bite out of a piece of bacon. "You and your fancy 'Faith'" Gammer Wilde said, ignoring the icy glare she received from the Septa. Drakon had made it a point to allow religious tolerance in his lands, so long as it did not damage the peace or interfere with the peoples' service to him. That had meant allowing Septa Eleanor and Gammer Wilde to be his religious advisors, representing the New Gods and the Old, respectively.

Before an argument between the two women could occur, Drakon said "Whatever Kirth might want, I will receive him in the Great Hall this afternoon and hear what he has to say. If there is nothing else, then we shall all meet again tomorrow".

Later that day, Drakon was in the Great Hall, sitting next to his wife as they awaited his cousin, Kirth. The doors at the far end of the large chamber creaked open, and a man with curly black hair and clean-shaven features walked in, flanked by two guards. "Ah, cousin! Such a pleasure to see you again!"

Drakon cracked his knuckles before saying "Kirth, to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?"

Ignoring the question, Kirth looked at his wife as he started approaching. "My dear Jocelyn, the greatest flowers of the realm would wilt…" he stopped as one of the guards forcefully put his hand on the minstrel's shoulder and pulled him back. Not one to be deterred, Kirth pulled out a lyre and started stringing it.

Drakon snapped his fingers, and the other guard took the lyre from the minstrel's hands. "What do you want, Kirth?" he asked, interlocking his fingers.

The minstrel appeared to be highly insulted, but then his shoulders slumped in defeat. "I've lost everything" he said. "My home, my coin, everything".

"So you came here hoping to earn our sympathies and lighten our coffers?" Drakon asked, carefully watching his cousin.

"That was my initial intention" Kirth admitted. "But then I realized that if I have no family, then I would truly have nothing. I came here to ask your forgiveness, and, if you would have me, I wish to get to know my family better".

Drakon looked to Jocelyn, who appeared to be considering Kirth's words. In all honesty, he was too, but there was a great gap between him and his cousin. The minstrel had lived his entire life worming his way in and out of trouble, often at others' expense. He had even tried to bed Drakon's own wife the last time he had visited, and neither he nor Jocelyn had quite forgiven him for that offense. However, it seemed as if Kirth was truly seeking forgiveness.

With a sigh, Drakon said "Very well. I will allow you to stay". Before Kirth could voice his thanks, the last Blackfyre added "Be warned; should you offend either me or anyone in my family, there will be consequences".

The minstrel gave a bow. "You needn't worry yourself, cousin; I've turned a new leaf".

Drakon motioned over to one of the guards, who promptly returned Kirth's lyre to him. He was then escorted out of the Great Hall, passing Ser Hugo, who entered with five guards, a woman, and a black-haired young man before bowing to Drakon and his wife.

Looking at the boy and the woman, Drakon asked "Is this them?"

"Yes, my lord" Ser Hugo replied.

The muscular man stood up and walked down the steps in front of the Lord's chair. The guards parted as he walked up to the boy and his mother. "What is your name, boy?"

The black-haired youth looked down at the floor as he replied "Derryk, m'lord".

Drakon looked the boy up and down. "You look strong. How old are you?"

"Seventeen, m'lord" the boy replied.

Drakon lifted the boy's chin with a finger, making his face level with his own. There was something about the boy, something that he couldn't quite place. Turning to Ser Hugo, he said "Ser Hugo, find these two some accommodations, and post a guard at their door at all times".

The Knight replied "Yes, my lord" before escorting the whore and her bastard son out of the Great Hall with the other guards.

Jocelyn walked down the steps in front of the Lord's and Lady's chairs. She took her husband's arm, and as they left the Great Hall, she said "Curious that Lord Arryn would concern himself with a whore and a bastard".

"Indeed" Drakon replied. "There was something about that boy, something that reminded me of the past".

"Hopefully the King's Hand will deign to reveal why he had us searching for this boy".


	9. Chapter 9 - An Opportunity

_**The next day…**_

Drakon entered the Council chamber, walking past the gathered advisors as they stood and bowed. Taking his seat at the head of the table, he turned to the black-haired Maester and said "Maester Lucas, I want you to send a raven to Jon Arryn; inform him that we have the bastard, and inquire as to what he wants done with him".

The young man hesitated before saying "My lord, we received a raven this morning, from King's Landing. Jon Arryn is dead".

"Dead?" Drakon asked, taken completely by surprise. "How can that be?"

"By all indications, a sickness took him" Rona Grey answered. "It came swiftly and burned hot".

"An odd coincidence", Simon Groat noted, taking a sip from his wineglass, "that the Hand of the King asks you to look after a bastard boy before dying the day after".

"An odd coincidence indeed" Drakon agreed. "Whatever Jon Arryn wanted with the boy, I suspect that it had something to do with his death. For now, we'll keep the boy here, and tell no one about his circumstances. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, he came to my lands with his whore mother to look for work. With Jon Arryn dead, the Usurper will be needing a new Hand of the King. I suppose he'll want Ned Stark for the position".

"You would be right on that account, my lord" Rona replied. "I've heard whispers from the capital that the king means to take the royal family to Winterfell to ask Lord Stark in person".

"This presents an opportunity" Drakon noted. "We need someone to accompany the Usurper's caravan and serve as our eyes and ears".

"If I may, my lord", Maester Lucas said, shifting in his seat, "but I believe that your cousin Kirth would be the best option".

"I agree" Ser Hugo said. "Minstrels often blend into the background; no one really pays too much attention to them".

Drakon nodded. It was the best option, he knew, and if Kirth was sincere about his dedication to his family, then a task such as this would be the perfect opportunity for him to put words into action. "Very well" he said at last. "I'll speak to Kirth about it tonight. Now, how is the hold doing?"

Alvyn was the first to speak. "The f-first of our trade ships h-have returned, my lord. Our enterprises abroad appear to b-be doing well".

"If you call a mere pittance 'doing well'" Simon Groat snarkily commented.

Alvyn appeared as if his family's honour had come into question. "It is i-imperative t-that we e-establish good trade r-relations with entities b-beyond Westeros! Those r-relations will earn us a r-reliable reputation abroad and result in an i-influx of funds in the future!"

Simon scoffed at the merchant's indignant response.

"Enough!" Drakon said, raising his voice just enough so that both men gave him their undivided attention. "Simon", he said, turning to look at the bald man, "you will show respect to your peers, or I will teach it to you. And Alvyn", he said, giving the old merchant a comforting smile, "try not to let him rile you so. It will only mean more incidents in the future". Both men nodded their understanding. "Excellent. Now, if there is nothing else, then we shall re-convene tomorrow".

Drakon then left the Council chamber, his crimson cloak flowing behind him as he made his way through the corridors of Dragon's Rest. Eventually, he made his way outside, into the garden that Jocelyn had been tending to ever since they had taken residence in the keep. The flowers and other plants reminded her of the Reach, and while it had not been the most pleasant place for her, it had still been her home. Drakon found her and Jayne sitting together on a bench while Kirth was serenading them with a song.

As he watched, Drakon had to admit that his wife and daughter appeared to be enjoying themselves. The few times that Kirth had visited in the past, Jayne had greatly appreciated his cousin's musical inclination. Perhaps the minstrel truly was trying to reconnect to his family. The muscular man listened to the song for a few moments before approaching. His wife and daughter noticed him first, and it only took Kirth a moment before he caught on.

"Cousin!" he said, standing up. "I was taking a stroll through what I am sure will be a lovely garden when I came across your wife and daughter. They pressed me for a song, and I just had to oblige".

"I heard" Drakon said.

The minstrel hesitated for a moment, then said "I can leave, if you want to talk to your wife and daughter alone".

"Actually", Drakon said, stopping his cousin before he could leave, "I wanted to speak with you".

"With me?" Kirth asked, a look of slight disbelief on his face.

Turning to look at his wife, Drakon asked "Could you give us some privacy?"

"Of course" Jocelyn said. "Come along, Jayne".

The two women stood up, and as they began walking away, Jayne turned to Kirth and said "The song was lovely".

The minstrel gave an elaborate bow. "Anything for you, my dear".

Once Jocelyn and Jayne left the garden, Drakon said "You have surprised me, Kirth. When I heard that you were coming here, I thought you had come to beg for coin once you'd heard of my new lordship".

"The thought did cross my mind" the minstrel admitted.

"But, you have shown a real commitment to this family, and I am impressed".

Kirth eyed Drakon for a moment. "Is there some sort of ulterior motive to this visit?"

"An opportunity has presented itself, one that I feel is best suited to your particular set of skills".

"What sort of an opportunity?"

Drakon scratched at his black beard for a moment. "Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King, is dead. King Robert plans to ride to Winterfell to ask Lord Stark to fill the position".

"And you know this how?" Kirth asked.

Drakon smiled marginally. "I know what I know" he cryptically replied. "The King's upcoming journey is an opportunity. Your presence would show my house's loyalty to the Iron Throne, and…"

"I could discreetly report anything I may happen to see or hear?" Kirth finished

"Precisely" Drakon replied. "You claim to want to repair your relationship with this family, and I believe you. This is a chance for you to put words into action".

Kirth nodded. After a moment of silence, he said "First I met a noble lord, and now I'm going to make the acquaintance of the King. I'm certainly making fine company these days, wouldn't you agree?"

Drakon smirked in response.

_**Later that evening…**_

Kirth mounted his horse, and Drakon walked up to him. "Remember, the idea is to…"

"Not draw attention to myself" Kirth finished. "I'm familiar with the concept of spying".

"Safe travels, cousin" Drakon said. The minstrel kicked his horse, and as he started to ride away, the muscular lord turned to Ser Creighton Heddle, one of the many knights sworn to him. "Keep him safe" he told the older man.

"I will, my lord" the Knight replied before riding after Kirth.

Drakon crossed his arms as he watched the pair riding into the distance. The matter of choosing a new Hand of the King should have been just another trivial political matter, but deep down in his bones, Drakon knew that something much larger and far-reaching was coming, and it would all begin at Winterfell.


	10. Chapter 10 - The Royal Caravan

**Thanks for all the reviews and favs everyone!**

_**The next day…**_

Kirth pulled his horse to a stop in front of the King's. His cousin had been spot on with the description; Robert Baratheon was, indeed, one of the fattest men the minstrel had ever seen. He felt sorry for the fat man's horse; the animal must have been barely able to walk with all that weight on top of it.

The King was surrounded by dozens of retainers, his Kingsguard, and a wheelhouse that most likely contained his family. One of the Kingsguard moved his horse in between Kirth's and the fat King's. "What is your business here?" he asked in a gruff voice.

Kirth managed to perform a mostly proper bow. "My name is Kirth, Your Grace" he said to the King. "My cousin, Lord Stormheart, sent me to accompany your caravan on its way to Winterfell".

"Was your cousin the Storm lad?" the King asked.

"He was, Your Grace" Kirth replied. "He's taken his bastard name and applied it to his new house name".

Robert Baratheon gave a hearty laugh. "Taking a bastard name and turning it into a noble house. I like your cousin, minstrel. Come! Hopefully your songs can keep us warm as we travel into the colder climes".

"It would be my honour, Your Grace" Kirth said as he brought his horse slightly behind the fat King's. Pulling out his lyre, he asked "What would you like to hear, Your Grace? The Rains of Castamere?"

"Gods, I hate that song!" the King countered. "Sing something the rest of us might enjoy!"

"I have just the thing!" Kirth said. Stringing the lyre, he began to sing. "_A bear there was, a bear, a bear! All black and brown and covered in hair!_" As he continued, the rest of the caravan started to join in. "_Three boys, a goat, and a dancing bear! They danced and spun, right to the fair!_" The chorus of voices continued to sing for quite some time, carrying across the landscape as they trod across the Kingsroad.

Eventually, when night had fallen, the caravan made camp on the side of the Kingsroad. Kirth groaned as he dismounted his horse, thanking the gods that they had finally stopped riding. Handing the reins of his mount over to Ser Heddle, the minstrel stumbled over to a small stream and began relieving himself. Lifting his head to the night sky, he groaned in relief. He then heard a strange noise coming from nearby.

Looking around, the minstrel noticed some activity over to his left, where the King's horses were tied up. Squinting in order to see, Kirth was shocked to find bandits in the midst of stealing the horses. Stuffing his manhood back into his breaches, he said "I don't think the King would take too kindly to having his horses stolen". The would-be horse thieves stopped dead in their tracks, looking at him.

Suddenly, a few of the horse thieves drew their weapons and started walking toward him. In desperation, the minstrel looked down in order to find a rock to throw. Finding a good-sized stone, he picked it up and threw it at one of the thieves. The stone hit him directly in the head, knocking him out cold. Unfortunately, the others came too close for that trick to work again. Kirth barely managed to dodge a swing of a sword before he was struck in the head. He fell to the ground, groaning in pain. Rolling onto his back, he was sure that his end was near just before Ser Heddle stabbed the one horse thief through the throat with his sword. As the Knight withdrew his blade, the minstrel was slightly coated in blood that spewed from the man's neck. Managing to roll out of the way as the corpse collapsed onto the ground, Kirth got on his hands and knees before retching onto the grass.

The next thing he knew, Ser Heddle was helping him to stand. The minstrel was glad for the assistance, as his head was throbbing and he could barely keep on his feet. "Did you kill them?" he asked, noticing after the fact that he was slightly slurring the words.

"Only some of them" the older man replied, helping the minstrel over to their bedrolls. "The rest ran away; horse thieves are never the bravest sort of criminals".

Kirth barely acknowledged the Knight's comment; as soon as he was laying on his bedroll, everything became black.

The following morning, Kirth rubbed his forehead as he walked over to his horse. Ser Heddle had assured him that the blow he had received wasn't fatal, but it would persist for quite a while. As the minstrel untied his horse, one of the Kingsguard approached him. "You are Kirth, the minstrel?"

"I am, indeed" Kirth replied.

"Ser Meryn, of the Kingsguard" the other man said. "I come bearing the King's thanks for saving his horses from those cutthroats".

"Well, I cannot take full credit; my companion, Ser Heddle, did most of the work".

"I've already spoken with him" Ser Meryn said. The other man looked out at the Kingsroad before saying "Ser Jaime was supposed to guard the royal steeds. He was most likely off ignoring his duties".

Hardly surprising, Kirth thought; the Kingslayer didn't strike him as a man who would enjoy menial tasks. "'Twas fortunate, then, that Ser Heddle and I were there".

"Indeed" Ser Meryn replied.

"Well", Kirth said, mounting his horse, "I'm glad I could be of some small service". The caravan was soon ready to leave, and as Ser Heddle brought his horse beside Kirth's, they could hear the fat King bellowing "Come on, already! I don't want to die of old age before we get to Winterfell!"

"Ah, minstrel" someone called to Kirth from behind him. The person rode up beside him, and Kirth saw that it was none other than Jaime Lannister, brother of the queen, speaking with him. "I wanted to thank you for your valiant defense of the royal steeds".

"You're welcome, my lord" the minstrel replied. "I hear that you were assigned to guard the royal steeds last night. I find myself wondering why you weren't there; a man of your superior skill should have dispatched them with ease".

The Kingslayer paused for a moment before saying "As you say, they wouldn't have been a challenge for me. Horse thieves are below me". He looked Kirth directly in the eyes and said "Soon, you will singing songs of my glory, minstrel" before riding ahead.

With the Kingslayer out of sight, Kirth made a mock bow. "Thank you for your service to the crown, Oathbreaker" he muttered to himself. Looking over at Ser Heddle, Kirth realized that his cousin had been right: this was going to be an eventful journey.


	11. Chapter 11 - News From the East

_**At Dragon's Rest…**_

__Drakon watched as his sons sparred with Ser Prester Cerwyn. They were doing well, considering they were boys of twelve who were fighting a well-trained and seasoned Knight. Ser Prester had been the obvious choice for his keep's Master-at-arms; the man had fought in two wars, and he was one of the finest fighters Drakon had ever met. Out of all the Knights in his service, Prester was the only one who had come close to besting him.

As the sparring continued, Drakon looked to his right and saw Derryk watching as well. The black-haired youth dipped a bright orange blade into a water trough, causing steam to rise from the object. Drakon walked over to the darkened space where Derryk was working. An older man, around Drakon's age, was working away at an anvil, hammering at a piece of metal. The man was far more muscular than even the last Blackfyre, having worked as a blacksmith for most of his life. "My lord" he grunted as Drakon entered, returning to his work a moment later.

"Joren" Drakon replied, walking up to Derryk.

"M'lord" the boy greeted, bowing his head.

"How are you finding it here, Derryk?" the muscular lord asked. After receiving the news of Jon Arryn's death, Drakon had made the bastard the blacksmith's apprentice. The boy's natural strength would come in handy, and it would be the perfect cover for him while he stayed in the keep.

"It's fine, m'lord" Derryk replied. "Joren's keeping me busy most of the time, but I don't mind; I quite enjoy it, actually".

"That's good to hear". Drakon turned to look at his sons in the practice yard before returning his gaze to Derryk. "My sons are doing quite well, wouldn't you say?"

"They're doing well against Ser Prester, that's for sure" the youth replied.

"And what do you think of my daughter, Jayne?" Drakon asked, crossing his arms.

Derryk appeared to be caught off-guard by the question. "Uh… m'lord, I haven't, uh…"

"It's all right", Drakon said, "I'm not angry. I know that she's grown quite fond of you over this past month". Derryk blushed, and the last Blackfyre knew that it wasn't from the heat of the forge. "My daughter's happiness is all that matters to me" he continued. "I've always tried to give her the best life she can have".

"Becoming a noble lady would be a step in the right direction, m'lord" Derryk replied.

Drakon nodded. "Yes, it is. It also means that she has certain responsibilities now. Do you know what those responsibilities are?"

Derryk wiped his hands on his apron before replying. "Marrying a noble?"

"Yes" Drakon said. "As much as she might not like it, Jayne is expected to marry a noble someday and secure a marriage alliance with another house. Now, while I understand that you and my daughter have feelings for one another, I cannot condone the two of you pursuing any kind of relationship".

Derryk looked down at the ground, and Drakon knew that this news wasn't what the boy wanted to hear. He knew that he himself would be heartbroken, and while he had married his wife out of love, they were both noble bastards with no responsibilities at the time. Drakon's new lordship meant that his children would have to pursue certain paths that they would not have necessarily wanted for themselves. Putting a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder, he said "I know that this isn't fair, to you and Jayne, but you must understand that I have to do what is expected of me as a lord. You'll be all right".

_**At Winterfell, in the North…**_

__Kirth watched as the fat King dismounted his horse. After a month of travelling along the Kingsroad, the royal caravan had finally arrived at Winterfell. Personally, the minstrel preferred the warmth of Highgarden to the cold gloom of the North. Even his cousin's keep in the Crownlands was warmer than the Stark hold.

From where he and Ser Heddle were, Kirth could see the King embracing Lord Stark before he and the queen greeted the Stark family. He then walked away, accompanied by Lord Stark, while the Stark and royal households began to disperse. Leaving Ser Heddle to take care of the horses, Kirth made his way into the courtyard of Winterfell. He had to admit that the keep was one of the grandest he had ever seen, befitting of a Great House.

Looking around at the members of the Stark household, he saw an old man in grey robes with a chain around his neck. He approached the man, saying "Maester, I am Kirth, cousin of Lord Stormheart in the Crownlands".

The older man bowed his head. "Luwin, of the Citadel".

"I wanted to inquire as to the health of Maester Aemon, at Castle Black".

Maester Luwin appeared to be genuinely surprised. "Maester Aemon is well, as far as I am aware. He is well-regarded in our order".

Kirth nodded. "My family remembers him well for his wisdom". Walking up to the Maester, he whispered in the man's ear "And for his origins". He then walked away, pointedly not paying attention to the older man's expression.

Later that night, Kirth walked into his room at the inn where he and Ser Heddle had decided to stay. Closing the door, he set his lyre down on the bed. Before he could do anything else, he heard a knock at his door. Opening it, he found no one in the hall; the only thing that he saw was a note on the floor. Picking it up, he saw that the only thing on it was a small picture of a Dragon and an invitation to the local brothel. Sighing, Kirth left the note in his room before making his way to the brothel in the village just outside of Winterfell.

Upon entering, he found it as busy as one would expect in the midst of a royal visit. Finding an empty table, he sat down at it. A very comely redhead walked up to him and asked "Can I get ya anything, love?"

"Some wine would be nice" the minstrel replied, and the woman walked away.

A moment later, a man sat down at the table, opposite Kirth. He was from Essos, as far as the minstrel could tell, most likely from Braavos or Pentos. "I see you got my invitation" the man said in heavily-accented, but flawless, common tongue.

"I did" Kirth replied as the redhead came back with a cup of wine. As she walked away, he asked "To whom do I owe the pleasure of speaking?"

"No one of consequence. I merely share an interest in… Dragons" the man replied, giving Kirth a purposeful stare at the last.

The minstrel smirked, taking a sip of wine. "My house has always respected power". Looking the foreigner in the eyes, he asked "And what is more powerful than a Dragon?" The other man smiled. Without saying a word, he passed Kirth a piece of sealed parchment before standing up and leaving the brothel. Kirth eyed the parchment, swirling his wineglass. After a moment, he downed the rest of the wine in a single gulp before heading back to his room at the inn. Once inside, he made sure the door was closed before holding the piece of parchment up against the light of a candle at the room's desk.

In its folded state, he couldn't make out most of what was written, but he could read two words very clearly: _Daenerys Targaryen_.


	12. Chapter 12 - Dark Tidings

Drakon walked through the corridors of Dragon's Rest, his cape flowing behind him. As he turned the corner, he could see Rona and Ser Hugo walking toward him. "My lord", Rona said as they approached, "I've heard whispers that Lady Lysa Arryn secretly sent a missive to her sister after Jon Arryn's death. My agents are tracking it now".

Drakon furrowed his brow in thought. "Do we know what this message contains?"

Rona shook her head. "Considering the amount of secrecy involved, we have to assume that it has to do with the late Hand's death".

Drakon turned to look at Ser Hugo. "What do you make of this?"

"Lady Arryn is a grieving widow" the Knight replied. "Still, I cannot see her sending her message by land unless it was of the utmost importance".

Drakon nodded. Turning to Rona, he said "Have your people keep their eyes and ears open in Winterfell, but warn them to be discreet".

Rona bowed her head. "As you wish, my lord. We wouldn't want to anger the Starks".

With that, she and Ser Hugo departed, leaving Drakon to ponder the implications. Lady Arryn was known to be a little… unstable, but even she must have had good reason to send word to her sister in such a manner.

"Trouble on the horizon?" a voice asked from behind him.

Turning around, Drakon saw his wife approaching. As she took his arm, he said "Lysa Arryn sent a missive to her sister in Winterfell, by land".

Jocelyn nodded gravely. "It would have to be a message of great importance".

"Indeed" Drakon agreed. "We will know soon enough".

The following day, Drakon sat in the Lord's chair in the Great Hall of the keep. His wife sat beside him as the last petitioner departed. Ser Hugo and Rona briskly entered, ordering all the guards to leave before they sealed the doors at the far end of the chamber. Drakon glanced at his wife as the two advisors approached. "What is it?" he asked.

Ser Hugo replied "My lord, our spies in Winterfell have reported a rumor. They whisper that the queen… murdered Jon Arryn".

Drakon gripped the armrests of his chair a little tighter. Turning to Rona, he asked "Have you heard this rumor, Rona?"

The grey-clad Spymaster hesitated for a moment. "I must admit, my lord, that I have not. I can only guess that this rumor originated from Lady Arryn's message".

Interlocking his fingers, Drakon said "Truth or lie, these are dangerous whispers that could spell doom for us all. You will ensure that word of this does not leave this room".

The two advisors bowed, and Ser Hugo said "None shall whisper ill of the queen, my lord". They then walked out of the Great Hall, and Drakon stood up.

"Dark times lie ahead" he said gravely.

_**In Winterfell…**_

__Kirth took a deep breath as he walked out of the inn where he was staying. Earlier that morning, he had sent the message he had received to his cousin through Maester Luwin. Now, he felt like taking a relaxing walk outdoors. As he did so, he spotted Jon Snow, Lord Stark's bastard son, hitting a training dummy with his sword. Walking up to the curly-haired boy, Kirth said "I hear the Wall is a lovely enough place".

The bastard turned to look at him, nodding. "Father's going south, and Robb's staying in Winterfell".

"Why would your brother stay here?" Kirth asked.

"There must always be a Stark in Winterfell" Jon Snow recited.

The minstrel nodded. After a moment, he said "If I might ask, why would you be going to the Wall? Why take the Black?"

The boy looked up, squinting at the sun. "A bastard has no family. The Night's Watch will soon be my family, and I'll finally be away from Lady Catelyn's anger".

Kirth regarded the curly-haired bastard for a moment. "You know, my cousin and his wife are bastards, just like you. No inheritance, scorned by one parent. Now, they are the Lord and Lady Stormheart".

"Well, that's very good for them", Jon Snow replied, "but I've made my choice. I'm going to take the Black and become a brother of the Night's Watch".

Kirth sighed. This boy was certainly determined; personally, Kirth would never take the Black if he had any choice in the matter. He would rather lose a hand than go celibate. "Well, I wish you luck, then". He started walking away, muttering under his breath "You're going to need it". The minstrel walked out of Winterfell, gently whistling a tune as he tried his best to enjoy the cold Northern air. While he still preferred the warm summer climes of the South, he was slowly learning to enjoy the grimness.

The fat King had left a few minutes ago with Lord Stark and several others for a hunt. The two men were as close as any Kirth had ever seen, so it was no wonder why King Robert wanted his childhood friend to be the new Hand of the King.

Kirth suddenly stopped walking when he heard the sound of a wailing wolf. It was one of the hot topics in Winterfell that the Stark children each had a Direwolf pup, and the minstrel had seen the beasts growing at an absurd rate. Looking around for the source of the wail, Kirth saw a decrepit tower nearby. Walking toward it, he soon saw one of the Stark Direwolf pups wailing away as it went back and forth, obviously agitated. The minstrel then noticed the source of its distress. Lying on the ground, eyes closed, was the second youngest of the Stark children.

Cursing under his breath, Kirth crouched beside the child. His name was Brandon or Brynden, something to that effect, and he was known to enjoy climbing about the walls of Winterfell. Once he knew that the boy was still alive, Kirth looked up at the decrepit tower. Taking the Stark in his arms, he started running back to Winterfell, shouting "Help! Help!" as the Direwolf pup scampered alongside him.

Kirth was soon at the gates of Winterfell, shouting "Help! I have one of the Stark children!" One of the guards dropped his spear and shield before running to him. As the minstrel handed the boy over to him, he pointed at the decrepit tower and said "I think he fell from that tower!"


	13. Chapter 13 - Plans for the Future

_**At Dragon's Rest…**_

__Drakon and Jocelyn sat down at the head of the Council table, calling for the servants who were waiting at the door. Everyone at the table was brought food and drink, as Drakon had called this particular meeting before any of them had had the chance to eat breakfast. Once the servants left, and the doors were closed, the muscular man said "As I'm sure you are all aware, a rumor is circulating in Winterfell that the queen murdered Jon Arryn. The rumor probably originated from a message Lysa Arryn, his widow, sent to her sister, Catelyn Stark".

"Are we sure that this is genuine?" Simon Groat asked after taking a bite of sausage. "Lysa Arryn is one of the battiest noble ladies I've ever heard of".

"While that may be true, we have to assume that this is genuine" Drakon replied. Pausing to drink from his wineglass, he said "We must prepare".

"Prepare f-for what, my lord?" Alvyn asked.

"Dark times" Drakon answered. Turning to Rona, he asked "The lords of Crackclaw Point. What are their loyalties?"

Rona appeared to be slightly surprised. Swallowing the piece of bread in her mouth, she answered "They've been Targaryen loyalists ever since Aegon the Conqueror united six of the kingdoms. Since the Mad... King Aerys", the grey-clad Spymaster corrected herself as Drakon kept his gaze on her, "was deposed, they've fallen on hard times. It seems that the Iron Throne has neglected them ever since the Usurper took power".

Drakon smiled, letting his pleasure be fully evident. "Just as I thought" he said. Turning to Maester Lucas, he said "Maester Lucas, after we are done here, I want you to send ravens to all the lords of Crackclaw Point. Invite them to a feast here in Dragon's Rest, and tell them that I have a proposal that they would be most interested to hear".

"Of course, my lord" the young Maester replied.

"If I may ask, m-my lord", Alvyn said, "what is it that you hope to accomplish?"

"If dark times are ahead, then we must be prepared" the last Blackfyre explained. "If we are to ever return House Targaryen to the Iron Throne, then we must work with the other loyalists. Once I meet with the lords of Crackclaw Point, I'll give each of you your instructions". Biting off a piece of bacon, he then asked "Now, what news do you have?"

"I heard the most interesting rumor last night" Simon Groat said. He purposely took a sip of wine before saying "Treasure hunters are claiming that the unhatched Dragon egg of Aerion Targaryen is at the Dragonpit".

Drakon's eyebrows arched. "Do you think there is any truth in this rumor, Simon?"

The bald bailiff shrugged before saying "It could very well be true. Rhaenys' Hill has been abandoned for over a century; it's possible that something might still be there".

Drakon interlocked his fingers, staring at the table as he pondered the implications. If the rumor was true, then he had to acquire that egg. Even if it was completely petrified and turned to stone, it would be a mighty gift to the Targaryens. However, on the other hand… Drakon had dreamed of hatching his very own Dragon since he was a child. Having grown up reading about Aegon the Conqueror and his Dragon Balerion the Dread, the last Blackfyre had yearned to birth Dragons into the world again. It was the single greatest desire of his after the desire to restore the Targaryens to the Iron Throne and to avenge their family. "We have to investigate" he said at last. "Ser Hugo, I want you to have our best knights go to King's Landing and investigate the Dragonpit. Ser Samwell, Ser Harron, Carellen Stokeworth, Gerold Halfhand, and Ser Prester should be more than capable enough".

Ser Hugo nodded. "Aye, that would be the group I'd send. They'll be on their way before midday, my lord".

Drakon nodded. If he were to acquire an actual Dragon's egg, then the future could hold a great many possibilities for him and his family.

_**At the River Trident…**_

Kirth whistled a tune as his horse crossed the Ruby Ford. This one point along the Trident River, where the three Forks converged into a single stream, was one of the only two crossings available to those who wanted to cross from North to South, and the Kingsroad crossed the Ford itself. The Fat King had bellowed for some time about the climactic battle that had taken place here, where his army had clashed with that of Rhaegar Targaryen's. Robert had struck the Targaryen crown prince so hard with his warhammer that the man's breastplate had caved in, killing him instantly and scattering the encrusted rubies in his armour about the Ford, giving it its name.

As the royal caravan passed over the Ruby Ford, a Stark man pulled his horse alongside Kirth's. It was Jory Cassel, the Captain of Lord Stark's Guard. "Minstrel, do you know any ballads about the Battle?"

"I do indeed" Kirth replied. Turning to the Stark man, he asked "Were you at the Battle?"

"Aye, I was" Jory replied. "So was my uncle, Ser Rodrik".

Kirth cleared his throat before singing "When at last the battle turned, was by the Hammer's hand… the Dragon fell and Landing burned, and rubies marked the sand…"

Eventually, the royal caravan stopped at the Crossroads Inn, making camp. Kirth and Ser Heddle tied their horses to a tree, and just as the pair were prepared to rest in the Inn, the fat King bellowed "My boy's been bitten by a Direwolf! You, minstrel, go find the Stark girl!"

Kirth bowed before he and Ser Heddle went into the woods to join the other searchers. They searched for several hours, and it wasn't until nightfall that the Stark girl was found by the Lannister men. After Lord Stark and the King had finished deliberating on what the punishment should be, Kirth was glad to finally have a chance to rest. Leaning against a tree, he brought out his wineskin and took a swig from it. Looking to his left, he saw a group of soldiers laughing and drinking. "Hey, minstrel!" one of them called. "Come join us!"

Accepting the offer, Kirth took a seat among them.

"We're taking bets on how that Direwolf is gonna die" one said before taking a sip of wine. "I'm thinking she'll go quietly".

Kirth nodded. "I agree with that assessment. Lord Stark doesn't have it in him to torture anything, even if it is a Direwolf. Five coppers says Lady will die mercifully".

A few of the soldiers shared in that opinion, while most thought that the wolf would die in pain. Needless to say, Kirth made a fair bit of coin that night.

_**At Dragon's Rest…**_

Drakon sat in the Lord's chair, his hands folded on his lap. "Is this truly what you want?" he asked.

Derryk nodded. "It is, m'lord. I want to join the Night's Watch".

Drakon glanced at Jocelyn before looking back to the boy. "Do you know what taking the Black means? You won't be allowed to marry, nor will you be allowed to father children. You'll spend the rest of your days on the Wall, sworn to protect the Realm".

Derryk looked down at the floor, then said "It's what I want. My mother's dead, and I can only cause you trouble. I appreciate everything you've done for me, but this is what I want".

Drakon sighed. The boy was right; his mother had died the week before, and as Drakon had not sanctioned a relationship with his daughter, there wasn't much for him here. At the Wall, he could start over, gain a new family, and perhaps find some purpose in life. "Very well" Drakon said at last. "I will let you go to the Wall. But you will not be going alone; you'll go with a small amount of supplies that I was going to send to Castle Black anyway, and I'll send one of my knights to escort you".

"Thank you, m'lord" Derryk replied.

Standing up, Drakon said "Come with me; there's something I want to show you". He led the boy into the keep's courtyard, into the forge where Joren was hard at work. "Is it ready?" The titanic man nodded, proceeding to retrieve a weapon from one of the racks. He handed it to Drakon, who hefted it before turning around and holding it out to Derryk.

The black-haired boy took the warhammer in hand, examining it. The massive weapon had a thick haft, much like Drakon's battle axe, and it had a solid steel, square-shaped head which had a spike on the other side. "I recognize this; Joren's been working on it for several days now" Derryk said. "I'm jealous of whoever gets it; this is a fine weapon".

"It's yours" Drakon explained.

"Mine?" the black-haired youth asked in total disbelief. "But… I…"

Drakon put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "You're a good lad, Derryk. You're loyal, you're kind-hearted, and you take your responsibilities seriously. This weapon is perfect for you. You're strong, stronger than I was at your age. Use it with pride while you're at Castle Black".

Derryk appeared to struggle to find the proper words. "I don't know what to say" he said at last.

"Don't say anything" Drakon replied. "When you get to Castle Black, find Rolfe; tell him I sent you".

Derryk nodded, and as he walked off to gather his things, Drakon wondered how Sebastion's father would react once he heard that his "son" had sent supplies and a fresh recruit to the Night's Watch.


	14. Chapter 14 - Cause for Celebration

_**At Dragon's Rest…**_

__Drakon and Jocelyn sat down at the head of the Council table. Maester Lucas was the first to speak. "My lord, I sent the ravens you requested, and I received a reply from the lords of Crackclaw Point. They would be delighted to join your feast a fortnight from now".

Drakon nodded. "Good, very good".

"We've also received word from the east, relayed through your cousin, my lord" Rona Grey added as she handed an unopened piece of parchment to the muscular man.

Drakon opened the letter. Reading it aloud, he said "Princess Daenerys Targaryen has wed the Dothraki Khal Drogo".

"Wed to a Dothraki?" Alvyn asked.

"How many Dothraki does it take to…" Simon Groat started to say before Drakon gave him a withering glare.

Turning to Rona, he asked "What else do we know?"

"They are to be wed at the estate of Magister Illyrio Mopatis, a wealthy merchant in Pentos. He's currently hosting Prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys".

"His Grace must hope to use the Dothraki to reclaim his throne" Drakon surmised.

"Providing that he could get them across the Narrow Sea" Ser Hugo said. "It's the only thing that's prevented those Horse-lords from invading Westeros".

"If His Grace could convince the Dothraki to invade, then there would be nothing the lords of the Seven Kingdoms could do to stop them. Anyone stupid enough to face them in open battle would be overwhelmed, while the others would stay behind the walls of their castles. Just how long could the Usurper and his supporters maintain power while a Dothraki horde ravages the Smallfolk?"

"A bold move, to be sure", Rona agreed, "but the prince would still have to convince them to cross the Narrow Sea. One would have an easier time of convincing people that we live in the eye of a blue-eyed giant".

"Still, this is cause for celebration" Drakon said. "Rona, I want you to spread the word of the princess' marriage to the other loyalists, but do it quietly. We cannot afford to tip our hand too soon".

The grey-clad Spymaster nodded.

"We'll adjourn again tomorrow" Drakon said. The advisors stood and bowed before making their way out of the Council chamber. The muscular man stood, taking his wife's arm as they both walked out into the corridor.

"There is more cause for celebration" Jocelyn said as they rounded a corner.

Drakon looked at her quizzically, wondering what his wife could have been talking about as she took his hand and placed it on her belly. He did not understand at first, but suddenly, he was struck by the realization. "You're with child?" he asked.

Jocelyn smiled, kissing him in reply.

The last Blackfyre smiled. "How long have you known?"

"A few weeks" she replied. "I was waiting for the right time to tell you".

"This is wonderful!" Drakon exclaimed, embracing his wife. "This is a sign! A sign that the world will finally be put back in proper order!"

As the pair rounded a corner, they saw Jayne hurriedly walking past them to the courtyard. "She's been riding Ebony for almost every waking hour" Jocelyn explained as they saw their daughter exiting the keep. "She misses Derryk".

Drakon nodded. "I know" he said, wishing that things had turn out the way they did. Turning to his wife, he kissed her before saying "I'll go talk to her".

_**At King's Landing…**_

__Kirth sat across from Ser Heddle in a filthy inn, eating a questionable stew. The minstrel had certainly seen worse establishments, so he wasn't complaining. They had arrived with the royal caravan a few days ago, so both men were glad to have finally come to the end of their journey. "A merchant told me that the assassin who nearly killed the Stark boy was using a Valyrian Steel dagger, with a Dragonbone hilt, no less!"

Ser Heddle nodded. "An expensive weapon for an assassin".

The old woman who ran the inn approached them. "Ever hear of Bran Stark?" Kirth asked her, wiping the stew from his mouth.

"Lannisters tried ta kill 'em" the old crone replied. "You wanna know anymore, then ya pay fer it".

Grudgingly, the minstrel handed her a few coins. The old woman bit down on one of them, and before she could say anything else, two Goldcloaks approached their table. "You, minstrel!" one of them cried. "You're under arrest!"

Kirth glanced at Ser Heddle, and the Knight quickly glanced down at the stew. The minstrel smirked slightly as he realized what his travelling companion was planning. Just as the Goldcloaks were about to grab him, Kirth took his bowl of steaming hot stew and threw it in the man's face. Ser Heddle did the same with the other man, and both cried out in agony. Kirth and the Knight hurriedly brushed past the incapacitated City Watchmen, running out of the inn. The pair ran for some time, eventually stopping in the Street of Steel, where all the blacksmiths in King's Landing worked.

"You there, minstrel" a voice called.

Groaning in frustration, Kirth turned around, expecting more of the City Watch. Instead, he found himself looking at Lord Eddard Stark and Jory Cassel coming toward them on horseback. "My lord Hand" Kirth said, bowing.

"I have a favour to ask of you" Lord Stark said.

"Name it, my lord" Kirth replied, knowing that to refuse the King's Hand was not one of the best decisions one could make.

"The King bore a bastard son named Gendry".

Hardly surprising, Kirth thought. The fat King whored around so much that it was a wonder how he didn't have an entire kingdom of bastard children running around.

"He works as an apprentice for Tobho Mott. Do you know where his shop is?"

"Of course, my lord. There is no finer Blacksmith in the Seven Kingdoms".

"I want you to find out everything you can about him" Lord Stark said.

"I shall begin at once" Kirth replied with a flourishing bow. With Ser Heddle following close behind, he set out for Tobho Mott's shop. Once they arrived, the minstrel turned to the Knight and said "It would be less conspicuous if you went in there".

"What should I say?" the older man asked him.

"Say that you want to buy new armour for the Hand's Tourney" Kirth replied. The Knight nodded before entering the shop, and Kirth casually kept his eye on the street, wary of any potential spies that might be watching them.

_**At Dragon's Rest…**_

__Drakon watched as the five knights he had sent to King's Landing rode into the keep's courtyard. Edric and Edwyn stood beside him; ever since he had told them of the possibility of acquiring Dragon eggs, they had been bursting with excitement. Even now, they were fidgeting as the group of knights dismounted from their horses. Luckily, Drakon had finished his talk with Jayne hours ago. She was upset, that much he could tell. But, after some private time during which they rode on their horses for an hour or so, she was doing much better.

The knight in the centre of the group had a short, stocky body, with an animal skin draped over his cloak. Ser Samwell Royce was one of Drakon's best warriors, after Ser Prester and himself. To the Knight's right was Ser Prester, whose long brown hair fluttered in the light breeze, and Ser Harron Mopatis, a dark-skinned man whose family had hailed from the Free Cities before had relocated to Westeros. To Ser Samwell's left was a man with shoulder-length red hair and a serious expression. To those who knew him, he was known as 'the Halfhand' due to his loss of half the fingers on one hand in a duel; despite the injury, he was singularly talented at disguising himself. The remaining person in the party was, in fact, a woman, with long, dark hair and blue eyes. Carellen Stokeworth was the third-born daughter of Lord Stokeworth, and her interests were of the martial variety. As a result, Drakon had found a place for her in his hold after her father had disowned her; she was a knight in all but name.

The group approached Drakon and his sons, bowing in respect. His sons could barely control themselves, and he felt the same on the inside. He was careful not to let his excitement show too much; as a lord, it was important for him to display power and authority whilst in the presence of those who served him. "Did you find it?" he asked, silently holding his breath.

"Yes, my lord" Ser Samwell replied in his deep voice. Reaching into one of his saddlebags, the Knight retrieved an object roughly the size of Drakon's son's heads. It was mostly silver, with a small band of gold across the bottom, and its shell was covered in scales. Ser Samwell handed the object to Drakon, and the last Blackfyre could hardly believe his eyes as he beheld a Dragon egg, one that had once belonged to Aerion Targaryen. The egg was heavy, almost as if it were stone, but Drakon had read enough about the creatures to know that, even if they were petrified, Dragon eggs would carry the spark of life for decades, even centuries, before hatching.

"Well done" Drakon said as he looked at the egg. "Well done, indeed".

"My lord" Ser Prester said, drawing the muscular man's attention.

Drakon looked over to his Master-At-Arms and watched as the man pulled a second egg from his saddlebag. This one was mostly bronze in colour, with a band of gold across the bottom just like the first. Drakon took the second egg in hand, not believing his eyes. "Two eggs" he said to himself, almost in disbelief.

"Yes, my lord" Ser Samwell replied. "Ser Prester found the second egg near the first. He was nearly caught in a cave-in".

The last Blackfyre turned to his Master-At-Arms. "You have my gratitude, Ser Prester" he said. The group of knights then dispersed, and Drakon knelt down as his sons openly gawked at the eggs.

He gave one to each of them, and Edric said "It feels heavy".

"That's because it's petrified" Drakon explained. "Both of these eggs have turned to stone after so long".

"Do you think we can hatch them?" Edwyn asked, his palpable excitement showing.

Drakon chuckled. "I don't think so" he said. "All the Dragons died out almost two hundred years ago. I'm afraid that these eggs are merely valuable possessions". Secretly, though, the muscular man hoped beyond hope that he might be able to one day hatch them. If not, then they would be a very fine gift to the Targaryens; though he had heard from Rona that princess Daenerys had received three Dragon eggs for her wedding day; two almost seemed an inferior gift compared to that. Only time would tell what would happen to these stone eggs.


	15. Chapter 15 - The Lion and the Wolf

**Thanks for all the favs/follows everyone! Enjoy!**

Drakon stood in front of the hearth, the Dragon eggs in hand. He stared at the flames, watching them flicker back and forth as they slowly consumed the pieces of wood that were fueling them. The last Blackfyre looked down at the eggs, at their scaled shells and bands of gold across the bottom, which led him to believe that they were from the same clutch.

"Should I feel jealous?" Jocelyn asked as she wrapped her arms around him. "You've been staring at those eggs for over an hour".

Tearing his gaze away from the eggs, Drakon looked into his wife's beautiful green eyes. Kissing her, he said "You have nothing to be jealous of, my love. You are my wife, the mother of my children…"

"And those are Dragon eggs" Jocelyn finished. "I can certainly understand why you are so taken by them. I must admit: they are beautiful".

Drakon smiled. "Your understanding is one of the reasons why I love you".

She kissed him on the lips, whispering in his ear "I know" before making her way to their bed. "Don't spend every waking hour with those things; a lord has many concerns".

Nodding, Drakon looked at the eggs once more. He then looked back at the hearth, and proceeded to gently place the eggs in the fire. He watched them for some time, hoping with every part of his being that the eggs would crack and Dragons would emerge. Unfortunately, nothing happened, and the stone eggs seemed to be unaffected by the hot fire. Sighing in defeat, he reached down and took the silver egg in hand. He lifted it out of the fire, and paused. The egg itself was still cool to the touch, and Drakon could not feel the heat of the fire on his skin. This close into it, he should have been feeling the searing heat in his hand.

Placing the silver egg on the floor, Drakon held his right hand over the fire. As the moments passed, nothing was happening. His skin wasn't blistering or melting; in fact, it felt as it normally did. He narrowed his eyes in curiosity until, at last, he felt the searing heat. He then retrieved the bronze egg with his left hand and, after putting both eggs away, he went to bed.

The following morning, Drakon and Jocelyn sat down at the head of the Council table. Turning to Rona, the last Blackfyre said "I hear the Usurper wishes princess Daenerys dead".

The Spymaster nodded. "King Robert's rage only grows with time. He wants the princess and her unborn child dead, and he is not quiet about it. Rumor has it that Ned Stark disagrees".

"Say what you will about Ned Stark", Drakon said, "but he is a man of honour".

Simon Groat snorted. "Honour amounts to very little in King's Landing".

Drakon nodded, and Ser Hugo said "I can't see Barristan Selmy approving this".

"He wouldn't. Ser Barristan is a man of honour; he would never approve the murder of a child and her babe".

"Speaking of Lord Stark", Maester Lucas chimed in, "a raven came this morning from King's Landing. It would appear that he has resigned as Hand of the King".

Drakon pondered the statement for a moment. "I wonder if the Usurper demanded more of him than his honour would allow".

Gammer Wilde chose that moment to speak. "It might cost him dear, my lord, but he'll keep what matters most! That Ned Stark's a firm one, with a firmer grasp of his honour!"

"Resigning as Hand of the King was a rash decision" Ser Hugo pointed out. "Lord Stark serves at the King's pleasure. They may be old friends, but it's the Hand's duty to obey".

"Surely there would have been a better way for Stark to handle the situation" Drakon said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"Indeed, my lord" Simon replied. "If Stark knew his business, he would not oppose a King famous for bellowing and shouting".

"Either way, tensions are running high" Ser Hugo said. "With Lady Stark capturing the Imp, and now with Lord Stark resigning as Hand, things are only going to get worse. We need to be ready".

"And that is precisely what I hope to accomplish with the lords of Crackclaw Point" Drakon said. "The feast is tomorrow, and, if everything goes well, then we should be well on our way to prepare for whatever the future holds".

"It a-appears that your premonition about dark t-tidings has been proven true, my lord" Alvyn noted.

"When the high lords of Westeros play the Game of Thrones", Drakon said, glancing at everyone seated at the table, "the rest of the world is pulled into their struggles".

_**At King's Landing…**_

__Kirth sang a song, enchanting the whore on his lap with his sweet voice. Normally, he would not be able to afford the services of Littlefinger's brothel, but he had made quite a lot of coin betting on the Hand's Tourney. That coin had allowed him to buy the services of the foreign beauty that he was now entertaining. Vaguely, he noted Lord Stark's presence in the brothel, speaking to Littlefinger on some political matter or other. Kirth felt that, after months of accompanying some of the most powerful people in Westeros, he had earned some relaxation.

As he started kissing the whore's neck, he heard several unusual sounds coming from the street below. The minstrel was currently seated near the balcony overlooking the street, and from it, Kirth could see Jaime Lannister surrounding Lord Stark with several Lannister soldiers. Everyone else on the balcony had taken notice as well, watching the unfolding events with both apprehension and mild excitement.

Kirth could hear the Kingslayer and Lord Stark conversing, but he couldn't quite make out the words. Given the circumstances, though, he assumed that it had something to do with Lady Stark's capture of the Imp. As he watched the proceedings, he saw the Lannister soldiers suddenly attack, killing Lord Stark's guards. Lord Stark himself, along with Jory Cassel, fought and killed several Lannister men, until Jory made the mistake of attacking the Kingslayer. The blonde man blocked the Stark man's attack, only to stab him in the eye with a dagger. After Jory's body slumped onto the ground, Lord Stark then began clashing with the Kingslayer. He was doing quite well, considering that his opponent was one of the best fighters in the Seven Kingdoms. Suddenly, one of the Lannister men stabbed Lord Stark in the leg with a spear.

As the northerner fell to the ground, the Kingslayer walked up to the man with the spear and struck him in the face, knocking him out. After saying a few words, he mounted his horse and departed with all of the Lannister soldiers.

Everyone watching from the balcony was utterly speechless. Kirth kissed the whore on his lap before he stood up. "Sorry love", he hastily said as he snatched the coin purse he had previously paid with, "the song of fate is calling!" He then made his way out of the brothel, looking around at the bodies on the street. Walking up to Lord Stark, he crouched down and asked "Lord Stark? Lord Stark, can you hear me?"

The other man stirred. "Jory?" he meekly asked, looking up at Kirth.

The minstrel shook his head. "I'm sorry my lord; he's dead". Lord Stark did not answer, instead falling unconscious. Looking around at the bodies, the minstrel acted quickly, taking whatever coins he could find. By the time the City Watch arrived, Kirth's pockets were lined with coins. The Lion and the Wolf had fought; it wouldn't be long before the Pride and the Pack would bloody one another.


	16. Chapter 16 - The Lords of the Point

Drakon and Jocelyn sat beside each other at the head table as the lords of Crackclaw Point started entering the Great Hall. His wife's belly had begun to swell, and she had had several of her gowns altered as the life inside her continued to grow.

Drakon and his wife had spent almost the entire day preparing the large chamber for the feast, and he could only hope that their preparations had been enough. Jocelyn sat to his left, Jayne sat to his right, while Edric and Edwyn sat to Jocelyn's left.

"Lord Casper Bogg" a servant announced as a proud middle-aged man dressed in finery entered with a few retainers. As the lord sat down at one of the tables, another one entered. "Lord Eustace Brune of Dyre Den" the servant announced as an old, weary-looking man sat down. "Ser Bennard Brune, Knight of Brownhollow". The next man that entered came dressed in simple clothing, without the ornamentation of the others. "Lord Imry Cave" the servant announced as another lord entered and took his seat. "Lord Haegon Crabb". A fairly young man entered, taking his seat. "Lord Edmund Hardy and Lord Ormund Pyne" the servant announced as the final lords from Crackclaw Point entered and sat down. "Lord Jared Staunton" the servant announced as the final lord entered. Though House Staunton's seat was not located in Crackclaw Point, it was on the very edge, as well as being northeast of Dragon's Rest, and that was why Drakon had invited Lord Jared to the feast.

Once all the lords were seated, Drakon motioned to a servant standing near the tables. The man handed a bowl containing bread and salt to Lord Ormund Pyne, who consumed a piece of bread after dipping it in the salt before handing it off to the other lords. "By the ancient laws of Guest Right", Drakon said, projecting his voice across the Great Hall, "I welcome you to my home. I offer you my hospitality and protection according to the laws of the Old Gods and the New". Once the bread and salt had made its way around the room, he said "My lords, thank you for accepting my invitation. As I'm sure you are all aware, the Starks and the Lannisters are a hairsbreadth away from warring with one another".

"Every time a High Lord takes a shit, another House always seems to find a way to take offence" Ser Bennard dryly commented before drinking from his wineglass.

Drakon nodded, hearing his sons chucking. "While that may be true, it is my belief that war is coming. We must be ready for whatever may happen".

"And how do you suggest we do that?" Lord Brune asked.

Drakon paused, deliberately looking each and every lord in the eye as he said "We here are united in common purpose. We all wish to see the Targaryens ruling the Seven Kingdoms".

Each of the lords glanced at one another before nodding in agreement.

"For centuries, your houses have served House Targaryen faithfully. Visenya Targaryen herself won your ancestors' loyalty by treating them with honour and dignity. While the Dragons reigned, your lands prospered. Can you honestly say that your fortunes were increased when the Usurper took power?"

The gathered lords all shook their heads. "The Drunk King spits on our houses!" Lord Crabb cried, and the others murmured their agreement.

"We've been neglected ever since the Targaryens were ousted!" Lord Hardy added.

"Precisely" Drakon said. "Each and every one of you had sons and family members who fought with Rhaegar Targaryen at the Trident, and you have been spurned for it ever since".

"What do you propose?" Lord Brune asked. "That we stage a rebellion and dethrone the Usurper? We don't have the numbers to overcome him; all the Great Houses acknowledge him as the rightful King".

Drakon nodded. "You are correct, Lord Brune. We cannot openly defy the Usurper, as the Greyjoys did nine years ago. What I propose is that we pool our resources, increase trade with the Free Cities, and stock up on supplies".

"To what end?" Lord Pyne asked.

"As I said", Drakon replied, "I believe that war is coming. War will mean starvation, refugees, chaos. If we do nothing, and war does come, then we will be sending our soldiers to fight in some distant battlefield while the Smallfolk who lose their homes to the fighting will come to the capital to seek shelter. King's Landing can only hold so many, and it won't be long before our lands are flooded with masses who will only tax our supplies".

The Lords of the Point were silent for a time, glancing at one another as they considered Drakon's proposal. "I suppose you would lead us in this endeavour?" Ser Bennard asked.

"Yes" Drakon replied, causing a clamour among the lords.

"Why should we follow you?" Lord Bogg demanded.

Drakon stood up to his full height. "You all know me as Sebastion Stormheart, but my true name is Drakon Blackfyre". The statement caused another clamour among the gathered lords.

"You lie!" Lord Brune exclaimed. "The Blackfyres died out forty years ago!"

"That's what the world believes" Drakon said. "I am the bastard son of Maelys I. I am descended from House Targaryen. The blood of Old Valyria flows through my veins".

"Even if what you say is true", Lord Crabb said, "why would you want the Targaryens to return to power? The Blackfyres were always rebelling against their rule".

Drakon sighed, placing his hands on the table in front of him. "I could barely walk when my father died in battle. King Aerys, then only a prince, saved my life and brought me back to the Red Keep. I was raised in secret, and I grew up with Rhaegar Targaryen. He was my friend, my brother. On the day King's Landing fell, I failed to save his family from being butchered. On that day, I swore that I would avenge Rhaegar's family. I will not rest until a Targaryen has reclaimed the Iron Throne, and I will restore my father's house to a position of honour and respect".

The lords of the Point once more fell silent, clearly believing him. "What good will pooling our resources and stocking up supplies do?" Lord Bogg asked.

"In the event that war does break out with the Starks and the Lannisters, then, no matter where they fight, thousands will be displaced. With extra supplies, we can invite many of those refugees into our lands on the condition that any man of fighting age will be recruited into a militia. Their families will be provided for, and we will see our existing forces increased by the hundreds, maybe even thousands. The day will come when the Targaryens will sail to Westeros to reclaim the Iron Throne; if we do this, then we will be in a position to help them reclaim it with a sizeable army".

"Even if events unfold as you say", Ser Bennard said, "then this 'sizeable army' will most likely number less than twenty thousand".

Drakon smiled slightly. "Aegon the Conqueror took six of the kingdoms with less".

"But Aegon had Dragons" Lord Brune added.

"True" Drakon admitted. "But in the absence of Dragons, an army at the doorstep of King's Landing is better than nothing". Looking to all the gathered lords, he asked "So, will you follow me?"

For a long moment, the Great Hall was deathly quiet. Drakon gripped the edge of his table so hard that his knuckles were turning white. Eventually, Lord Pyne stood from his seat. "I will follow you" he said.

"And so will I" Ser Bennard added.

All the other lords stood and voiced their support, and Drakon looked to his wife, who smiled as she held his hand as a show of support. His gambit had paid off; now he just had to implement it, and hope that he didn't die trying.


	17. Chapter 17 - Dashed Hopes

_**At the Eyrie, in the Vale of Arryn…**_

__Kirth watched as Tyrion Lannister made his case to the Lady Arryn. Up until a few days ago, the minstrel had been in King's Landing, but after Lord Stark had been crippled in the skirmish with the Kingslayer, Littlefinger had asked him to deliver a letter to Lady Arryn. 'Commanded' more like it; Littlefinger was not one you said no to. Personally, Kirth had always been unsettled while in the man's presence, and was glad to be hundreds of miles away from him. That being said, Catelyn Stark's sister almost made Littlefinger seem pleasant. When he had arrived, the woman was letting her sickly child suckle at her own tit, a sight that Kirth would remember for the rest of his days.

Suddenly, he was broken out of his reverie as the Imp demanded a Trial by Combat. As everyone in the High Hall started murmuring their surprise, Kirth glanced at Ser Heddle, who was equally surprised.

"My lady, I beg the honour" one of the Vale knights said. "Let me be your champion".

"The honour should be mine" another said. "For the love I bore your lord husband, let me avenge his death". All the other knights in the chamber spoke up, voicing their desire to fight for the Lady Arryn as her son Robin cried to 'make the bad man fly'.

"Ser Vardis", Lady Arryn said to one of her knights, "you're quiet. Don't you want to avenge my husband?"

The Knight kneeled, replying "With all my heart, my lady". Glancing at Tyrion Lannister, he said "But the Imp is half my size. Shameful to slaughter such a man and call it justice".

"Agreed" the Imp replied.

Kirth watched as he called for his brother, the Kingslayer, to be his Champion, only to be foiled by Lady Arryn, who demanded that the trial take place immediately. Casting a bemused glance at Ser Heddle, the minstrel heard the court's derisive laughter as the tiny Lannister called for a Champion. Miraculously, someone stepped forward, much to everyone's shock. In time, Ser Vardis equipped his full plate armour, drawing his sword and shield, while the Imp's Champion refused a shield of his own, fighting with only a sword and light armour.

The fight started, and as it went on, Ser Heddle whispered in Kirth's ear. "The Sellsword's tiring Ser Vardis by moving around".

Kirth nodded, having noticed the same thing. Full plate armour offered a powerful defense, but it also weighed heavy, and given how much the Sellsword was moving around, he guessed that Ser Vardis might actually lose this fight. Turning to one of the nearby noblemen, Kirth said "Two silver stags says the Imp's Champion will win".

The man looked quite taken aback, until his pride forced him to say "Five stags on Ser Vardis".

"Five it is, then" Kirth replied, seeing the nobleman scoff out of the corner of his eye. Sure enough, Ser Vardis began to tire, and the Sellsword eventually managed to slice the Knight several times until he was helpless at the edge of the Moon Door. "A fine blade, that" Kirth said, referring to the sword Ser Vardis had been using.

"That's the blade of Jon Arryn!" the nobleman said. "Ser Vardis is the Captain of the Guard, and was most deserving of it".

Kirth nodded, glancing at Ser Heddle for a moment before returning his attention to the duel. In grand fashion, the Sellsword pierced his blade into Ser Vardis' neck before throwing him through the Moon Door. As everyone in the hall watched in stunned silence, the Imp and the Sellsword left. Once the doors were closed, the nobleman grudgingly handed the five silver stags to the minstrel before walking off and cursing under his breath. With the silver in hand, Kirth looked at the blade of Jon Arryn. Seized by inspiration, he reached into his coin purse and retrieved a handful of coppers, proceeding to throw them on the ground near the stairs that led up to the throne. The coins achieved the desired effect, causing enough of an uproar that Kirth used to deftly retrieve Jon Arryn's sword before he and Ser Heddle hastily made their exit from the Eyrie.

_**At Dragon's Rest…**_

__"There has been a raven, my lord" Maester Lucas said, handing a piece of parchment to Drakon. "Lord Stark has stripped Ser Gregor Clegane of his title, and has sent men to kill him".

Drakon read the letter for a moment. "I hope the Mountain dies a slow, agonizing death, cursing with every breath as he is torn apart" the muscular man spat, letting his complete and utter hatred of the man be known.

"The Mountain is a sword in Tywin Lannister's hand" Rona said. "Or even a torch, thrown without care as to who burns".

"Clegane himself is, pardon the expression, a small matter" Simon Groat said. "Has Lord Stark gone too far? This death sentence is a bit extreme".

Drakon gave the bald bailiff a withering glare, which made the man squirm in his seat. "Extreme?" he asked. Before Simon could respond, the last Blackfyre turned to Alvyn. "How much damage has been done?"

The old merchant pulled out a piece of parchment. "It's just a scratching, m-my lord, but it looks as if a good part of the Riverlands will be s-short of food for a year or more".

"Such a waste" Jocelyn said, shaking her head.

Forcing his anger at the memories of the Mountain to abate, Drakon took a large gulp of wine and asked his advisors "What else?"

For several moments, none of them spoke, and it was obvious that they knew something that he didn't. "Well?" he asked, not wanting to be kept waiting.

Maester Lucas was the first to speak. "I am so sorry, my lord" he said, handing another piece of parchment to him. "Prince Viserys Targaryen is dead. His sister's husband, Khal Drogo, crowned him with gold, molten gold".

Drakon wordlessly took the parchment, staring at the crimson tablecloth. As the moments passed, he slowly crumpled the letter in his hand as he trembled with rage. Suddenly, he furiously hurled his breakfast plate and wineglass at the wall as he shouted in anger. The last Blackfyre then walked over to the room's hearth, placing his hands on the mantel as he stared into the flames. The room was deathly silent, and Drakon could see the face of Rhaegar Targaryen staring accusingly at him from within the fire. He had failed to save his brother's wife and children, and now Rhaegar's own brother was dead. Jocelyn wrapped her arms around him, trying her best to comfort her husband.

"The prince is burnt" Rona said, shattering the silence. "Let us not forget what King Aerys did to Rickard and Brandon Stark".

Drakon slowly turned to face his council of advisors, staring daggers at Rona. Slumping into his chair, he said "I owe King Aerys my life. He saved me, brought me to the Red Keep. He was a good man, but he was very ill". Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed. "But, I do recognize that the things he did toward the end of his reign were unforgiveable".

"'Tis not wrong t'feel heat in your cheeks, my lord" Gammer Wilde said. "Yer blood needs t'boil a little 'fore ye get the apoplexies! So think on your dead prince!"

Drakon smiled faintly. "No. My anger is real, but I will not let it control me".

"Take heart, my lord" Alvyn said. "A Targaryen still rides with a mighty host of Dothraki, with an heir g-growing in her womb".

"Alvyn, your optimism lends me strength in these dark times".

"I only say what I believe, my lord" the old merchant replied. "Our time will come, if we are patient".

Jocelyn held Drakon's hands in hers, and the muscular man smiled at her. Sitting straight, he said "Simon, Alvyn, you are to work with the lords of Crackclaw Point. Increase trade with the Free Cities. We need to start storing more supplies; food, weapons, building materials, anything. Is the two of you working together going to be a problem?"

The two men looked at each other before they both replied "No, my lord".

"Good, see that it isn't". Turning to Rona, Drakon asked "Is there any more news of Princess Daenerys?"

"Khal Drogo killed her brother because, if my birds' songs are to be believed, Viserys was threatening her and her unborn child. She is better-loved now than she has ever been".

"Should some future Dragon reclaim Westeros, some few at least will remember your part. I'll see to it myself, in confidence, of course".

"Thank you Maester" Drakon replied. "We will reconvene tomorrow". The advisors all stood and bowed before leaving the Council chamber. As he stood, Jocelyn took his face in her hands and kissed him lovingly. "What would I ever do without you?" he asked, eliciting a smile from his wife.

Later, after night had fallen, Drakon was in his room, staring out the window at his keep. Jocelyn had gone to sleep already, and the muscular man had been standing in front of the window for what felt like an eternity. Eventually, he turned around and walked to the opposite wall, which was covered in an exquisitely-beautiful mosaic of Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters astride their Dragons. Drakon had had it commissioned a few months after he had taken the keep, right around the time he had sent Kirth to join the King's caravan.

Running a hand across the image of Aegon and his mighty Dragon, Balerion the Dread, he pressed the Dragon's eye in, which resulted in a slight click as one of the tiny square rubies of Aegon's circlet extended outwards marginally. Drakon turned the mosaic piece a quarter turn counterclockwise, a full turn clockwise, and then a half turn counterclockwise before he pressed it back into place. Hearing a series of clicks from behind the wall, the muscular man placed his hands firmly on the wall before he used his strength to push it open like a door. When he had commissioned the mosaic, he had also commissioned some of the finest lock makers in Westeros to build a secret lock into the wall. Needless to say, they had never been allowed to live once the wall had been completed.

Stepping through, Drakon found himself in a small chamber. The only visible light came from the single torch in the main room. The wall to his right contained the Dragon eggs on top of a shelf. The wall directly ahead of him was occupied by a suit of full plate armour, the finest Drakon had ever seen, and he knew how finely-crafted it was; he had certainly paid enough for it, and the smith's silence. The armour was completely pitch-black, with the exception of a sigil in the centre of the breastplate and a crimson cape. The sigil consisted of a circular area of crimson, within which was a black, three-headed Dragon, and the cape was crimson with the same black Dragon in the centre. The Blackfyre sigil had been created when Drakon's ancestor, Daemon, had been legitimized by his father, the reigning Targaryen. Daemon had inverted the Targaryen sigil for his own use, resulting in a black Dragon on a field of crimson. The suit of armour also bore Dragon motifs, such as clawed gauntlets, sabatons forged in the likeness of clawed Dragon feet, pauldrons shaped like Dragon heads, and the helm had distinctive Dragon wings on the sides, just like the helmet worn by his ancestor, Daemon Blackfyre.

Drakon slowly ran his hand across the Blackfyre sigil, his house's sigil. The legacy of the Blackfyres was that of rebellion against the Targaryens, against their own blood. Drakon's own father had died leading the last of them, and the fate of his house had rested squarely on his shoulders for his entire life since then. He would return House Blackfyre to a place of honour, a place where his children and the people of Westeros could be proud of it.

Letting his hand drop to his side, Drakon turned to the left wall of the small chamber. The only thing on it was a magnificent sword mounted in the very centre, the sword that his wife had brought to Dragon's Rest when she and their children had first arrived. Firmly gripping the handle, Drakon drew the sword from its exquisite sheath, watching how its Valyrian Steel blade brilliantly gleamed in the darkened space. He felt the weight of the blade in his hand, swinging it back and forth.

The pommel and cross guard were black, and had been forged in the likeness of Dragon heads, while a single, round ruby was imbedded in the centre. Drakon held the weapon with the reverence it deserved, for the sword was Blackfyre, the weapon carried by Aegon the Conqueror, his own ancestor, when he had conquered six of the kingdoms with his sisters. The blade that had been the namesake of his House had come into his possession while he had been in Essos, and it was his most treasured possession. One day, when Drakon would be able to reveal himself and his true identity to the world, he would don the Black Dragon Armour and wield the Valyrian Steel blade of Aegon the Conqueror.


	18. Chapter 18 - The Wolf's Folly

_**In the Red Keep…**_

Kirth rounded the corner, finally making it to the corridor in front of the King's quarters. All of the king's councilors were gathered in front, and Lord Varys, the King's master of Whisperers said "Lord Stark is inside, with the King".

"And why are you here, Kirth?" Lord Renly asked.

Ignoring the question, the minstrel turned to Grand Maester Pycelle. "How is the King faring?" he asked.

"There was so little to do…", the old Maester replied, "and so much to be done. Even if the pig had taken him right here, in this hall, even then, I could not have saved him".

Turning to look at Lord Renly, Kirth asked "Do you know what they're saying in there?"

The other man shook his head. "We'd all know if we could, of course. Who wouldn't? We'll all know when Stark comes out, and not a moment sooner".

"You were in the King's camp, were you not?" Grand Maester Pycelle asked Kirth. "Was there anything out of the ordinary?"

Kirth shook his head. "The King was quite agitated, and he desperately wanted to kill something". What he wasn't telling them, of course, was that there was something out of the ordinary. While he was in the campsite, the minstrel had been approached by Lancel, the King's squire. The skinny little Lannister boy wanted Robert dead, but Kirth knew that the Queen had commanded him to. Nevertheless, the minstrel had kept his cousin's complete hatred of the Fat King in mind. And so, Kirth had had Ser Heddle replace the wine in the King's skin with a much, much stronger vintage, enough to make the Fat King miss with his spear and get gored by a boar.

Just then, Lord Stark emerged from the King's quarters. "Give him Milk of the Poppy" he told the Grand Maester before walking away.

As Kirth watched Lord Stark round a corner, Varys whispered in his ear "Did you see what he was carrying? A sealed document, with the King's seal, no less".

"What do you think it contains, Lord Varys?"

"No doubt it's just what you think, my curious friend" the portly Spymaster replied.

"Well, only you can know everything" Kirth stated, crossing his arms.

"You flatter me, Kirth. Sadly, I don't know everything, but I'd wager that that was a will, naming Lord Stark as Protector of the Realm".

Taking his leave of the King's councilors, Kirth made his way to Lord Stark's quarters. One of his men was standing guard, and Kirth asked "How is the Hand faring? Is there anything I can do?"

"I'm not to say, minstrel" the man replied. "I can't tell you about the secret".

Deciding on a different tactic, the minstrel said "You were in terrible shape earlier. I'm glad to see you on your feet!"

"Thank you, but I'm not talking about the letter. Ah, Seven Hells!"

Just then, Lord Baelish stepped out of Lord Stark's quarters. "Ah, minstrel" he said, putting a hand on Kirth's shoulder as they started walking away. "I see you're eyeing Tom's pouch" he whispered, glancing back at the Stark guard.

"Perhaps" Kirth said noncommittally. Glancing at Lord Baelish, he could tell that the other man knew that he was, indeed, interested.

"You know, with letters, it's not so much what they say as where they're going, don't you think?"

As Lord Baelish walked away, Kirth glanced back at Tom. "Indeed" he said to himself.

A few short hours later, the minstrel was walking down a hallway when he accidentally bumped into the royal steward. "My apologies" he said as the steward recovered.

"Move aside. I have orders for Lord Stark; King Joffrey demands his presence".

As the steward walked away, Ser Heddle caught up with the minstrel. "What did you learn?" Kirth asked him.

"Lord Stark sent the letter to Dragonstone" the Knight replied.

"Dragonstone?" the minstrel asked. Shaking his head, he said "That doesn't matter right now; Joffrey's claimed the throne, and he's demanded that Lord Stark join him". The two men made their way to the Great Hall, where Joffrey sat on the Iron Throne, surrounded by his mother, the Hound, Lannister soldiers, the Kingsguard, and dozens of the City Watch. Not a moment after they entered, Lord Stark and his full retinue of guards entered alongside Lord Baelish and Lord Varys.

"All hail His Grace, Joffrey of Houses Baratheon and Lannister, First of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm" the steward announced as Lord Stark and his men made their way to the centre of the large chamber.

Kirth crossed his arms as Joffrey demanded oaths of fealty from his councilors. Lord Stark then handed the letter from the late Fat King to Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. "Lord Eddard Stark is herein named… Protector of the Realm… to rule as regent… until the heir come of age". The minstrel glanced at Ser Heddle as the Queen took the note from Ser Barristan and tore it to pieces. Lord Stark then stated that Joffrey had no claim to the throne. In response, the boy king petulantly ordered "Kill him! Kill all of them! I command it!"

Kirth felt Ser Heddle place a hand on his shoulder, and saw that the Knight had his other hand firmly on the hilt of his sword as Lord Stark commanded the City Watch to take the Queen and her son into custody. For a moment, it appeared as if they were about to so, until Commander Slynt ordered "Now!" The Goldcloaks then turned on Lord Stark's men, cutting them down like cattle. Ser Heddle drew his blade, shoving Kirth behind him as he attempted to come to the aid of Lord Stark. The minstrel watched as the Knight cut down five Goldcloaks before he was pierced in the side by a spear. Even then, he fought like a man possessed, killing another two before he was finally cut down.

Kirth saw Ser Heddle's bloody corpse collapse onto the floor, sword still in hand. He looked into the dead man's eyes, and he saw them looking back at him. Even several hours later, as he came across Lord Varys emerging from the dungeons, he still saw those eyes.

"Lord Stark rots in one of the Black Cells" the Spider said. "Let us pray he bows to King Joffrey for the sake of peace".

"Do you think Lord Stark would bend the knee to that psychotic little child?"

Varys gave him a disapproving look, then said "Few know the Lord of Winterfell's mind. But Eddard Stark loves his children, and denouncing the king will only put poor Sansa in grave danger". Kirth nodded, and Varys said "I couldn't help but notice that your bodyguard was killed in that unpleasantness in the Great Hall".

"The old fool" Kirth said as he looked down the hall. "He knew that Lord Stark didn't stand a chance, and he got himself killed anyway".

"Men of honour often live and die by it" Varys noted. "In many ways, they are not suited for this world".

_**At Dragon's Rest…**_

Drakon laughed as he watched Ser Samwell dueling with Ser Harron in the courtyard of Dragon's Rest. His family sat at a table in front of the entrance to the keep, while dozens of servants, Smallfolk, and other knights were gathered around the makeshift dueling ring in the centre of the courtyard. Ser Prester fought in full plate armour with a closed helm and a sword and shield, while Ser Harron fought with full armour sans helmet with a flail and a shield.

As Ser Harron managed to push the keep's Master-At-Arms back, Drakon could clearly see the excitement in his sons' eyes. Now that his had become a noble family, the last Blackfyre had wanted the twin boys' first Nameday celebration in their keep to be memorable, hence the melee between his house's knights and guards.

"Go on, Ser Prester, you can beat him!" Edric shouted.

"Knock him to the ground!" Edwyn shouted.

Drakon glanced at his wife, and they both smiled at their sons' enthusiasm. Despite Ser Harron's temporary advance, the far more seasoned and experienced Ser Prester recovered in no time at all, handily tripping his opponent and having him yield a moment later. The crowd cheered and clapped, as did Drakon and his family. "Well done, Ser Prester!" the muscular man exclaimed. Turning to his scruffy-haired sons, he asked "Who should fight next?" The twins seemed to consider for a moment, though their shared glances revealed that they already had something in mind.

"Ser Samwell" Edric said.

"And Ser Hugo!" Edwyn finished, eliciting a positive response from the crowd.

The two knights entered the dueling ring, both clad in full plate armour with closed helms. Ser Hugo wielded a bastard sword along with a small round shield, while Ser Samwell drew a mighty two-handed greatsword from the sheath that his squire was holding. The two knights then knelt before the twins, who both shouted "Fight!"

The two men then turned to face each other, and Ser Samwell made the first move as he brought his greatsword down in an overhead chop. Ser Hugo brought his own sword up to block, but instead of simply meeting the oversized blade of his opponent head on, he redirected it to the side, and the blade of the greatsword struck the mud. Ser Samwell responded by punching the Captain of the Guard in the helmet, knocking him back a few steps. The stocky man then made a series of attacks, only to have Ser Hugo dodge and avoid them. After dodging a sweeping attack, Ser Hugo slammed his entire body against his opponent, knocking him to the ground. The crowd cheered at Ser Hugo's move, and he brought his sword down… only to have Ser Samwell block it with his own blade.

"Pardon the interruption, my lord", Maester Lucas whispered in Drakon's ear as the duel continued, "but we have received news from the east. About the Princess".

Drakon nodded. Turning to Jocelyn, he said "Please excuse me, my love" before standing up. Leaving his wife to watch over his twin sons' thirteenth Nameday celebration, the muscular man followed Maester Lucas to the Council chamber, where all the other advisors except Ser Hugo were already seated. Drakon and the Maester took their seats, and the young man said "We've received word that Daenerys Targaryen was offered poison wine. She is unharmed. King Robert's final arrow, loosed after his death".

"Poisoning a pregnant girl" Drakon said with obvious contempt. "The Usurper truly was a depraved murderer!"

Rona shook her head. "Children never do well when dynasties fall. Sometimes the tragedy just takes time to overtake them".

Drakon nodded in agreement. "Even as the Seven Kingdoms fall into disorder, so too does house Targaryen". Turning to Rona, he asked "What else do we know?"

"Based on what we've heard", the Spymaster began, "it appears as if Ser Jorah Mormont saved her from the poisoning".

Drakon smiled. "Before he left to fight at the Trident, Rhaegar told me of a dream he'd had the night before". Glancing at all the gathered advisors, he continued. "He told me that, in the dream, he saw his own death, and that he would be succeeded by a Dragon, one whose light would one day shine across the whole world. For almost eighteen years, now, I believed that his brother Viserys was that Dragon. Perhaps his sister is Rhaegar's true heir".

"Yes, my lord. Of that, there appears to be no doubt" Rona replied, folding her hands on her lap. "A great injustice will someday be remedied".


	19. Chapter 19 - The Eve of Destiny

_**At Castle Black…**_

__Derryk grunted as he brought his warhammer down in an arc, only for his opponent to dodge his attack. The massive head of the weapon struck the ground, kicking up some dirt. Reorienting himself, Derryk decided to wait for the other man to make his move. He didn't have to wait long, as the other man, Grenn, attempted a thrust his sword. Derryk dodged the attack, proceeding to use his warhammer to trip his opponent. Grenn hit the ground hard, and after rolling onto his back, he cried "I yield! I yield!" as Derryk was about to attack once more.

The black-haired young man chuckled as he helped Grenn to stand. As he did so, a slow clapping could be heard from nearby. "It's a rare enough thing", a gruff voice said, "to have a raw recruit who can actually fight". Rolfe, an experienced Ranger who was watching the sparring match, clapped Derryk on the back and said "You ready to take your vows, boy?"

A few hours later, Derryk was sitting amongst all the other recruits, surrounded by all the Sworn Brothers serving at Castle Black, as Lord Commander Mormont spoke from above. "You came to us as outlaws", the older man said, "poachers, rapers, killers, thieves. You came alone, in chains, without friends or honour. You came to us rich and you came to us poor. Some of you bear the names of proud houses, others only bastard names or no names at all. It does not matter. All that is in the past. Here, on the Wall, we are all one House".

As the Lord Commander kept speaking, Derryk looked over at Jon Snow, Lord Stark's bastard. Ser Alliser called him "Lord Snow", and the name seemed to be sticking around the castle. His fat friend, Sam, was talking in his ear. How an oversized book-lover like him could join the Night's Watch was beyond Derryk.

"Here", the Lord Commander continued, "you begin anew. A man of the Night's Watch lives his life for the realm. Not for a King, or a lord, or the honour of this House or that House, not for gold or glory, or a woman's love, but for the realm and all the people in it. You've all learned the words of the vow. Think carefully before you say them. The penalty for desertion is death. You can take your vows here, tonight, at sunset. Do any of you still keep the Old Gods?"

"I do, my lord" Jon Snow replied, standing up.

"You want to take your vow before a heart tree as your uncle did".

"Yes, my lord" the curly-haired young man said.

"You'll find a weirwood a mile north of the Wall. And your Old Gods too, maybe".

Sam then stood up. "My lord, might I go as well?" he asked.

"Does House Tarly keep the Old Gods?" the Lord Commander asked in response.

"No, my lord. I was named in the light of the Seven, as was my father was and his father before him".

"Why would you forsake the gods of your father and your House?" Ser Alliser asked from above.

"The Night's Watch is my House now. The Seven have never answered my prayers. Perhaps the Old Gods will".

Lord Commander Mormont nodded. "As you wish, lad". He then referred to the scroll in his hand. "You've all been assigned an order, according to our needs and your strengths. Halder to the Builders. Pyp to the Stewards. Toad to the Builders. Grenn to the Rangers. Samwell to the Stewards. Matthar to the Rangers. Dareon to the Stewards. Balian to the Rangers. Rast to the Rangers. Jon to the Stewards. Rancer to the Builders. Echiel to the Builders. Gordo to the Stewards. Niko to the Rangers. Escan to the Rangers. Vorkoy to the Builders. Joby to the Stables. Mink to the Kitchens. Allo to the Builders. Nelugo to the Rangers. Derryk to the Rangers". Rolling up the scroll, he said "May all the gods preserve you".

Derryk felt a surge of fulfilment and excitement; he was a Ranger now, one of the main fighters of the Night's Watch. "Rangers with me" a voice called, and Derryk, along with Grenn and the other Rangers, walked over to him. The black-haired young man cast a smile at his burly friend, knowing that he could have a true life here.

_**A few days later…**_

__A servant entered the Council chamber, a letter in hand. "Begging your pardon, m'lord", the thin man said, "but we just got a raven from King's Landing". Drakon motioned the man to come forward, and the servant proceeded to hand a letter to Maester Lucas.

Once the servant left, the young Maester opened the letter. "It is from your cousin, my lord. He summons you to King's Landing. Lord Stark will soon be judged for treason, and he believes that you may have some time to influence events".

Drakon considered the letter's contents for a moment before turning to Simon Groat. "What do you make of Lord Stark's predicament, Simon?"

Pausing to take a sip of wine, the bald bailiff replied "Lord Stark insulted King Joffrey by claiming his right to the throne as Protector of the Realm. Eddard's honesty led him into the King's shackles".

"Every man must bear the burden of punishment, my lord" Gammer Wilde said. "Some are crushed by the weight. Eddard may burden the storm, fierce as it will surely be".

"Ser Hugo, can you spare ten men to accompany me to the capital?" Drakon asked.

"Our men stand ready to shield you on your journey, my lord. I'll select them myself" the Knight replied.

"Good" Drakon said, standing up. "I leave within the hour".

"Your escort will be ready for you" Ser Hugo said, bowing before he left the room.

"We'll see to the hold's affairs while you are away, my lord" Alvyn said.

Before long, Drakon and his family were gathered in the courtyard of Dragon's Rest as the honour guard Ser Hugo had prepared waited by their horses. Kissing his daughter on the cheek, he wrapped his arms around her as she said "We'll miss you".

"I'll miss you, as well" he replied. Turning to his sons, he crouched down and put a hand on their shoulders. "While I'm gone, I want you to keep practicing. Never give up, and remember that when you work together, nothing can stop you". The twins nodded before they wrapped their arms around him. Drakon then walked up to his wife, kissing her lovingly on her ruby lips. "I know I can trust you to look after the hold in my absence".

"Of course you can" Jocelyn replied with a smirk. Taking his hands in hers, she said "Come back to me".

"I will" Drakon promised, kissing her once more. He proceeded to mount his horse, his honour guard doing the same. With one last look at his family, the last Blackfyre rode out the main gate, followed closely by ten of his household guard as he made his way to King's Landing.

It took the better part of the night, given the sheer amount of people making their way to the city, but Drakon finally arrived at King's Landing as the sun started rising. Coming to a stop at a stable, Drakon and his guards dismounted from their horses before tying the animals up. Kirth stood at the end of the street, and as they approached, the muscular man and the minstrel embraced one another in a bear hug, laughing as they did so. "Good to see you, cousin!" Kirth exclaimed.

"And you as well" Drakon replied. "After everything that's happened, I can honestly say that I'm proud of you, Kirth. For your part in the Usurper's death, I can never properly thank you".

The minstrel smiled. "Your acceptance is all I need". Reaching into the folds of his cloak, he said "When last I found myself in the Tower of the Hand, I stumbled upon a very interesting discovery". Finding what he was looking for, Kirth pulled out a very ornate dagger in its sheath. "Consider it a gift" Kirth said as he handed it to his cousin.

Drawing the dagger from its sheath, Drakon said "Valyrian Steel. And with a Dragonbone hilt, no less". Sheathing the dagger, he said "A very fine weapon". He put a hand on Kirth's shoulder. "I heard about Ser Heddle".

The minstrel's expression became rather sullen. "The old fool saw that Lord Stark had no chance, but he threw his life away for nothing".

Drakon nodded. "He was a fine man. A good Knight. He will be missed, but right now, we have more important matters to attend to".

Kirth nodded. "There's still time for you to meet with Lord Stark. Just meet with Varys, and I'm sure we can get it done".

"I was thinking the same thing" Drakon said, nodding past Kirth. The minstrel turned around to see Lord Varys himself approaching them. "I sent a message to him before I left" the muscular man explained.

Kirth chuckled as the portly Spymaster approached. "Welcome to King's Landing, my lord" he said, taking Drakon's hand. "I understand you wish to meet with the traitor Ned Stark".

"What punishment does he face?" Drakon asked.

Varys brought his hands together. "If he defies the King, then he dies. But, if he confesses, then he will be allowed to live out his days on the Wall". He started walking down the street, toward the Red Keep, with Drakon, Kirth, and the guards in tow. "I was able to meet with him dressed in a disguise. I believe that you will be able to as well".

"There is no need for that" Drakon said. "There are at least fifty miles of tunnels beneath this city, and many lead to the Red Keep. I know my way around them, so getting to the Black Cells will be no problem".

"Really?" Varys asked, his interest piqued. "I would very much like to know how you came to acquire this familiarity with the city's tunnels".

"Yes, I'm sure you would" Drakon replied, eliciting a smirk from both Varys and Kirth. "I'll take two of my guards with me into the tunnels, and Kirth will help you to distract the guards long enough for me to speak with Lord Stark".

"Very well" Varys replied. "Let us hope you can convince the man to end this madness before war breaks out".

Finding one of the tunnels that would take him to the Red Keep's dungeons, Drakon entered with two of his guards, leaving the rest to guard the entrance. Having grown up in the Red Keep, Drakon had memorized almost the entirety of the secret tunnels that ran through the city's underground and the Red Keep itself. He had explored many of them, often wanting to catch a glimpse of life outside the castle walls. Eventually, he and his two guards finally entered the lower depths of the Red Keep, where the Black Cells were located. They soon found the door to Lord Stark's cell, and the absence of any guards led Drakon to believe that Kirth had done his job. Leaving his men at the door, Drakon entered the cell, bathing the dark space with the light of his torch. There, in the centre of the room, was Lord Eddard Stark. The Lord of Winterfell looked over at him, wincing a little from the torch light. "Who might you be?" he asked.

Crouching down beside the other man, Drakon replied "Consider me a friend. Will you accept Joffrey's offer of mercy?"

Lord Stark scoffed. "He holds my daughters at knifepoint. I'll say what I must to ensure their safety, but there will be no kindness in my words".

Drakon nodded. He could certainly understand the other man's feelings on the matter. If he were in Lord Stark's position, he would say whatever he had to in order to ensure that his children would be safe. "Tell me the truth: do you truly believe that Joffrey has no claim to the throne?"

"I swear on my family and all my ancestors that Joffrey shares no blood with King Robert" Lord Stark replied.

"On that, we can agree" Drakon said.

"I know what must be done. In a few hours, we will see if I have chosen the right path".

With that, Drakon walked out of the cell, leaving Lord Stark to contemplate his future.


	20. Chapter 20 - Blades of Destiny

Drakon and his guards emerged from the tunnel, where Lord Varys and Kirth awaited them alongside the other eight guards. "Well?" Lord Varys asked, arching an eyebrow.

"He'll confess to committing treason" Drakon said. "He won't do anything to risk his daughter's lives".

"That is a relief" the Spymaster said. "You must excuse me, my lord, but I have to return to the Red Keep. Let us hope that the next few hours will see an end to all this unpleasantness".

As the portly man walked away, Drakon muttered to himself "We can only hope". With that, they began to make their way down the street toward the Sept of Baelor, where Lord Stark would be judged for his crimes. Drakon and the others walked for some time, moving through the gathering throngs of people that always swarmed toward important events. After rounding a corner, the last Blackfyre thought he saw someone from his past, a face he had not seen in almost twenty years. Turning to a few of his guards, he said "You three, circle around and come back this way from the other side of the street. If the man in the black cloak tries to get past you, don't let him, but be careful not to draw your swords". The three men bowed before hurrying to the street that ran parallel to the one he currently occupied.

"Why do you want to talk to the man in the black cloak?" Kirth asked.

"Because he's an old friend", Drakon replied, "and he might not recognize me. Go ahead to the Sept; I won't be long". Kirth eyed him for a moment, then walked away. Not a moment later, Drakon saw the three guardsmen approaching from the opposite end of the street. With the other seven guards in tow, he started walking toward the man he recognized. The cloaked man took notice, and turned around, only to find that he was surrounded. The street they were in was one of the smaller ones, and thus they were the only people in it. The man in the black cloak, once he realized that he was trapped, started to draw his sword. "Peace, Ser Barristan", Drakon called, holding his hands up in a non-threatening gesture, "none of my men are stupid enough to fight you".

Ser Barristan Selmy hesitated, clearly expecting some sort of trick. Keeping a grip on his sword, he asked "Who are you?"

"You would not believe me if I told you", Drakon said, "so I will show you, instead". He proceeded to draw his sword from the sheath attached to his belt. Holding the blade with open palms, he held it up so the older man could inspect it. "You gave this to me for my twenty-third Nameday, one week before you went off to fight at the Trident. You made me promise to practice with it every day, and that…"

"You were the finest student I had ever seen" Ser Barristan finished. "Drakon? It cannot be".

Drakon chuckled as he sheathed his sword. "I escaped this city the day it fell. For almost eighteen years, I've been practicing, with this sword and every other weapon I could find". Ser Barristan looked at him in disbelief. He then smiled, and the two men embraced one another. In many ways, Ser Barristan had been a father to Drakon, teaching him how to fight with a sword, how to live his life as a proper warrior, everything that had allowed him to be the man he was. King Aerys had saved his life, but the aged Knight had raised him, more than anyone else.

They then broke the embrace, and Ser Barristan said "Your hair".

Drakon ran a hand to where his silver streak was, intentionally rubbing a marginal amount of the dye off. Showing his now-blackened fingers to the older man, he said "A special dye from Essos. It's allowed me to blend in for almost sixteen years. After all, silver hair isn't that common in Westeros".

"Indeed" Ser Barristan replied.

"What are you doing here?" Drakon asked. "Aren't you Lord Commander of the Kingsguard?"

The older man bore a scowl on his face. "Our whelp of a King thought me too old to protect his worthless hide. He went so far as to blame me for his father's death!"

Drakon was astounded. "The arrogance!" he exclaimed. "You could cut them all down if you were blinded and only used one hand!" Ser Barristan nodded, and after a moment, Drakon asked "Who has filled the vacant spot on the Kingsguard?"

"The King's dog, Sandor Clegane. None of them are worthy of the white cloak they wear". The bile in the Knight's voice was palpable.

"Joffrey filled the Kingsguard with men who wouldn't question his rule" the last Blackfyre noted. "What will you do now?"

Ser Barristan looked up at the sky. "Right now, I'll see Ned Stark's judgment; I owe him that much. After that, I'm leaving".

Drakon retrieved his coin purse. After inspecting its contents, he gave it to Ser Barristan. "Here, take this. I only wish there was more that I could give you".

The Knight graciously took the small bag of coins. "This is more than enough, thank you".

Putting an arm around Ser Barristan's shoulders, Drakon said "Come, Ned Stark awaits us". They then made their way to the Sept of Baelor, recounting stories to one another. The Knight talked about his less-than-treasured experience serving as the protector to a drunk, while Drakon talked about his life after the Usurper had taken power.

"Did you fight in the Greyjoy Rebellion?" Ser Barristan asked.

"No", Drakon replied. "My daughter was suffering a fever at the time, so I remained at home and took care of her".

"You have a daughter?"

"Yes, Jayne. She's grown into a fine young woman. I also have twin sons, Edric and Edwyn" Drakon replied with pride.

"I wish I could meet them" Ser Barristan said.

"The twins would love you. They want to be knights one day".

"I seem to recall another young boy who wanted to be a Knight, a boy that challenged every servant to a duel for weeks after I told him that a Knight practices every single day".

Drakon smiled. "They certainly take after me in that regard. They spend almost every waking hour sparring with my knights".

Ser Barristan smirked, and just as they rounded another corner, a group of Goldcloaks approached them. "You", one of them called to Ser Barristan, "you're under arrest!"

"For what charges?" Drakon demanded as his hand fell to the handle of his sword.

"Ser Barristan insulted the King when he was discharged from the Kingsguard!" another Goldcloak replied. "You're obviously an accomplice. Come with us, now!"

Drakon drew his sword. "I won't allow you to sully Ser Barristan's name with false charges!" Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the older man drawing his blade as his guards formed a tight circle around the pair. "Leave them for us!" Drakon commanded. The guards looked to one another, obviously uncertain as to whether they should follow the command or not. Eventually, they elected to follow it, moving to the sides of the street.

"Now I'll get to see how much progress you've made" Ser Barristan said.

With that, the Goldcloaks, numbering around a dozen, drew their own swords and rushed the pair. Two of them attacked at once, but Drakon blocked their blades with his own. He then drew the Valyrian Steel dagger Kirth had given him, using it to stab one man in the throat. As the man collapsed onto the ground, the other tried to attack again, but Drakon beheaded him with a single swing. Dodging a slice from a third man, the last Blackfyre quickly followed up by piercing the man's side with his sword. Another Goldcloak slammed into Drakon, forcing him to leave his sword imbedded in the corpse.

Grunting as he crashed into the wall of a building, Drakon used the dagger to slice the Goldcloak's throat. Shoving the corpse aside, the muscular man easily dispatched two more opponents before the melee was finished. Breathing heavily, he pulled his sword out of the one man's body, taking the time to wipe the blood off of it. "You were forced to drop your weapon" Ser Barristan chided as he cleaned his own blade.

"And you were a little slow" Drakon retorted with a smirk. Turning to his guards, he said "Hide the bodies". As they went about their task, the muscular man clapped his mentor on the back. "It felt good to finally fight by your side; I never got the chance to go with you all those years ago".

"It's probably best that you didn't" the older man replied. "If Robert had found out that you had Targaryen blood, then he would have killed you on the spot".

Drakon nodded. With his guards having disposed of the bodies, they resumed walking toward the Sept of Baelor. They finally arrived a few minutes later. The throngs of people had been steadily growing as they had approached, and a rather large crowd was gathered where Lord Stark would be judged for his alleged "treason". Up at the front, facing the crowd, was the so-called royal family, the members of the Small Council, members of the Kingsguard, Sansa Stark, and the King's Justice, Illyn Payne. Drakon remembered the day when King Aerys had had the man's tongue ripped out. From a secret vantage point, he had seen everything, and he had heard the King say that Ser Illyn had made treasonous comments, but he had later overheard some of the servants whispering that the man had made a comment that Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King at the time, was the true power behind the throne.

Drakon's guards formed a shield between him and the crowd, shoving people aside as they made their way to the centre, where Kirth was. "Did you have a happy reunion?" the minstrel asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Kirth, this is Ser Barristan Selmy" Drakon said, careful not to raise his voice too much. "Ser Barristan, this is my cousin, Kirth".

The older man nodded in respect to the minstrel, saying "Of course". Drakon had explained the situation to his former mentor, so he knew that Kirth was not aware of his "cousin's" true identity.

Just as the introductions finished, two Goldcloaks brought Ned Stark out. The crowd immediately started shouting and raving, calling for his head. The Lord of Winterfell was brought before the so-called royal family. "I am Eddard Stark", he called, "Lord of Winterfell, and Hand of the King. I come before you to confess my treason in the sight of gods and men. I betrayed the faith of my King, and the trust of my friend, Robert. I swore to protect and defend his children, but before his blood was cold, I plotted to murder his son and seize the throne for myself. Let the High Septon and Baelor the Blessed bear witness to what I say. Joffrey Baratheon is the one true heir to the Iron Throne by the grace of all the gods, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm".

"A fine performance, wouldn't you say?" Kirth asked sardonically as Drakon kept his eye on the disgraced Lord.

"As… as we sin, so do we suffer. This man has confessed his crimes in sight of gods and men. The gods are just, but beloved Baelor taught us they can also be merciful" Grand Maester Pycelle said. The old man turned to the false King Joffrey. "What is to be done with this… traitor, Your Grace?"

The crowd once more began to shout and curse, but the blonde boy put up a hand. Once they were silent, he said "My mother wishes me to let Lord Eddard join the Night's Watch. Stripped of all titles and powers, he would serve the realm in permanent exile. And my lady Sansa has begged mercy for her father". Joffrey kept his gaze on the Stark girl for a moment before saying "But they have the soft hearts of women. So long as I am your King, treason will never go unpunished. Ser Illyn, bring me his head!"

Drakon and Ser Barristan exchanged shocked and horrified glances. What was the boy thinking? If he executed Lord Stark, then the Northerners would be out for blood. Drakon could see many of the people around Joffrey trying to dissuade him from this mad course of action, but he appeared to have made his decision. The last Blackfyre saw Ser Illyn Payne put on a black hood before gripping Lord Stark's own Valyrian Steel blade, Ice, as two of the Kingsguard held the man down. With a single swing, the King's Justice beheaded the Lord of Winterfell. Completely disgusted, Drakon turned and started walking away, followed by Ser Barristan and Kirth as his guards shoved people out of the way. The group eventually made their way to the stables where they had tied up their horses.

"Disgraceful" Ser Barristan spat.

"That boy has just killed every Lannister between here and Casterly Rock" Drakon said, not that he especially minded; he did, however, realize that war would ravage the country long before a Targaryen could reclaim the Iron Throne. "All of the North will be up in arms over the death of their liege lord".

"So, you're going back to the keep?" Kirth asked.

"Yes" Drakon replied. After a slight hesitation, he and Kirth embraced.

"Farewell, cousin. Next time you visit King's Landing, we'll see the sights and miss the beheadings. At least you got to meet with Lord Stark before his death".

"Keep out of trouble" Drakon said, pointing a finger at the clean-shaven man.

The minstrel appeared highly offended. "Trouble? Me? Whatever do you mean?" With that, he gave one of his flourishing bows before he departed, leaving Drakon with Ser Barristan.

"Where will you go now?" the muscular man asked.

"East" the Knight replied. "I'm going to find Princess Daenerys and repay her for my failure to protect her family".

"I understand" Drakon said. He, too, wished to make up for his failure to protect Rhaegar's family.

"And you?" Ser Barristan asked. "Pretending to be someone else, gaining a lordship; what do you intend to do?"

Looking the older man directly in the eyes, Drakon said "I am going to find a way to have a Targaryen on the Iron Throne once more. I'm going to return my father's house to a place of honour and respect. And I am going to gain justice for Rhaegar and his family by wiping out every last Lannister I can get my hands on".

Ser Barristan nodded. The two men were under similar obligations, and they both had mistakes they needed to correct. They embraced once more, knowing that they would likely not see each other for a long time to come.

Drakon mounted his horse, his guards doing the same, and said "I wish you luck, Ser Barristan" before kicking his horse and riding out of King's Landing, away from the madness that was surely to come.


	21. Chapter 21 - State of Affairs

_**At Dragon's Rest…**_

__Drakon and his guards rode through the main gate of Dragon's Rest at last. The muscular man saw his family and advisors gathered in the courtyard. After dismounting his horse, he embraced his children and his wife, glad to have them back in his arms again. His wife's belly was growing more every day; it wouldn't be long until they welcome another child into the world.

"Welcome home, my lord" Maester Lucas greeted. "You've been dearly missed. We've only just received word of Lord Stark's execution".

"Have we heard word from our allies concerning Lord Stark's death?" Drakon asked.

"We have" the younger man replied. "The people are concerned. They fear that war will soon come to their homes, and refugees from the Riverlands are already starting to pour into the Crownlands. Most are heading toward King's Landing, but several hundred have already made their way here and to other holds in the area".

Turning to Simon Groat, Drakon asked "How has the hold fared in my absence?"

"Very well, my lord" the bald man replied. "Ser Hugo kept the peace; only three arrests. The people are still undecided as to what to do about Lord Stark's death. They await your reaction".

Drakon nodded, knowing that there was work to be done. "We'll convene in the Council chamber".

As the advisors bowed and headed into the keep, Jocelyn walked up to him, whispering in his ear "Lord Stark's execution will only make things worse in the long run".

"I know".

The beautiful woman surreptitiously glanced at the children, who had gone back to whatever they had been doing before he had arrived. "Do you think we should send the children away?"

"Where would we send them?" Drakon countered. "Ashford is too far away, and there isn't anywhere in Essos where they would be absolutely safe. No, the best we can do for them is to make sure that they stay in the keep. For now, the fighting is contained in the Riverlands; let's just hope is stays there". With that, the pair made their way to the Council chamber, taking their seats at the head of the table.

"Welcome back, my lord" Ser Hugo greeted from his seat.

Drakon nodded. "What's the situation with the refugees?"

"For now, only a few hundred have found their way to the villages in your hold" the Knight said. "Many have also gone to the other holds in the Crownlands. Most of them are going to King's Landing, which lightens the pressure on us, but more and more people are pouring in from the Riverlands, trying to get away from the fighting".

Drakon absently rubbed his thumb and forefinger together.

"It appears that y-you were correct about the r-refugees, my lord" Alvyn noted.

"Yes, and we need to properly handle the situation. King's Landing may be the largest city in Westeros, but it can only hold so many. The false Queen Cersei is stupid enough to ignore the Smallfolks' plight, so riots are inevitable". Turning to Ser Hugo, he said "Ser Hugo, I want you to create a militia, starting with the men among the refugees that have already come here. You will have as many men as you need to train and equip them to the best of your ability". Looking at all of his advisors, the last Blackfyre continued. "Send the word out: any refugees are welcome to come to my lands for shelter, provided that any man of fighting age join this new militia. Their families will be provided for so long as they follow orders. Maester Lucas, send word to the lords of Crackclaw Point; tell them to do the same. Alvyn, you will be responsible for ensuring that we have continuing trade with Essos. Simon, you will oversee the hold's finances; I want the militia to have enough funding to ensure that it is properly equipped and maintained, but not at the expense of the hold itself. My wife and I will oversee the construction of new housing and storage buildings to accommodate the influx of people and supplies".

The advisors all tentatively glanced at one another. Drakon knew that this was a bold plan; he had known that since he had first sent an invitation to the Lords of the Point, and he was committed to see it through.

_**A few days later…**_

__Drakon, his wife, and all the advisors all sat down at the Council table. For the past several days, they had been laying the groundwork for the new militia. It had already started out with almost two hundred recruits, and that number was steadily growing. "What news?" Drakon asked.

"It's Renly Baratheon, my lord" Maester Lucas said. "He has married Margaery Tyrell and claims the crown. It appears that another King joins the war for the Iron Throne".

"What chance does Renly have of claiming the Iron Throne?" Jocelyn asked.

Ser Hugo shrugged. "He's gathering more support every day. What he lacks in skill in battle, he compensates with wise and powerful allies".

"Who has sworn allegiance to him?" Drakon asked, looking at the young Maester.

"House Tyrell pledged support to Renly once he married into their family. Additional supporters will surely soon join the charismatic Baratheon".

Drakon smiled pessimistically. "The more kings join the fray, the more destruction this country will suffer".

"I fear the war for the Iron Throne is only beginning, my lord. But I am sure you will see us through it".

"I appreciate your support, Maester" Drakon replied.

"There is something of concern in relation to this matter" Rona said. "One of your guards is loudly proclaiming that you intend to swear for Renly".

Drakon arched an eyebrow. "Really? And what do we know about this guard?"

"He recently gained considerable wealth, my lord" the grey-clad Spymaster replied. "Perhaps one of Renly's allies bribed him to test the waters for your support".

Drakon glanced at Jocelyn, who appeared to be thinking the same thing he was. "I can't have this man spreading word of my supposed loyalties. Ser Hugo, you will find this man and exile him from my holdings. Seize his new-found wealth and use it toward the militia".

The Knight nodded. "Yes, my lord".

"If I had to wager on all these kings running about", Simon Groat said, "I'd bet my money on the king that's yet to reveal himself. A man who lets his enemies tear each other apart is wise, indeed".

Drakon nodded.

"In the wake of Ned Stark's execution, the Northerners have rallied around Robb Stark, declaring him King in the North. My spies can't penetrate his inner council in the Riverlands, but perhaps Kirth could pay them a visit" Rona said.

"What do you suppose his next move is?"

Rona considered for a moment. "He delivered a crushing defeat against the Lannisters when he broke the siege at Riverrun and annihilated the Kingslayer's army. He's likely planning his next offensive".

"Ser Hugo, what do you make of this news?"

"The Northerners are a tough lot" the Knight replied. "United under one banner, following a leader like Robb Stark's shaping up to be, they're a force to be reckoned with".

Drakon nodded his agreement. Ser Prester, the keep's Master-At-Arms, was from the North, and he was one of the finest warriors he had ever encountered. Turning to Rona, he said "Send word to Kirth. Have him go to the Riverlands".

Rona bowed her head. "I'll have him meet with my spy in the area, Nym. She will aid him in his mission".


	22. Chapter 22 - Blood and Fire

**Thanks for all the favs/follows everyone! Enjoy!**

_**At Riverrun…**_

__Kirth sat with Lord Karstark and several Northerners, laughing away as they all enjoyed a round of drinks in Riverrun, the ancestral seat of House Tully and current location of Robb Stark and his army. Milling about was Nym, a thin but attractive servant of House Tully. She was Rona Grey's main contact in the castle, and whatever Kirth found out would be sent through her. "Tell me, Lord Karstark" the minstrel said, putting his mug down on the table, "why has Robb Stark been proclaimed King in the North?"

The bearded man took a swig of ale before replying "After three hundred years of bowing and scraping to Southern kings, it's time we ruled ourselves again".

"King in the North!" the others at the table exclaimed.

Kirth waited for a moment, then asked "So what do you think your new King will do now? He's won an amazing victory against the Lannisters, so how do you think he would follow that?"

Lord Karstark regarded him suspiciously, then took another swig of ale. "I expect King Robb'll march against King's Landing. The South will tremble when we march".

Kirth took a sip of ale, casting a surreptitious glance at Nym.

_**At Dragon's Rest…**_

__"Word has arrived from your cousin, my lord" Rona said. "Jaime Lannister continues to rot in captivity, and Robb Stark is concerned with achieving independence for the North and the Riverlands".

Drakon interlocked his fingers in thought as he put his elbows on the Council table. "What chance does the Stark boy have?"

"He's already won several major battles, my lord" Ser Hugo replied. "In the first engagement with the Lannisters, he captured the Kingslayer and virtually annihilated his army, wiping out half of their forces in the Riverlands".

Jocelyn appeared troubled. "Freedom from a vicious little boy like Joffrey is a noble cause, but how much damage will be done in the meantime?"

The grey-clad Spymaster held her spy's letter over a candle, letting it burn. "A King in the North, a King on the Iron Throne, a King in Highgarden, and a King in the Narrow Sea. This war will not end soon enough, I fear".

"There's also news that Tyrion Lannister is heading for King's Landing with a group of Hill Tribesmen from the Vale and orders for the King" Ser Hugo said.

"I thought that Joffrey takes orders from no man. Who sent these orders?"

"If I had to guess, I'd say that they came from Tywin Lannister, the King's grandfather. He's the only one who could possibly reign in that little monster".

"It seems that the Imp is keeping colourful company these days" Drakon noted.

"A veritable circus, my lord" Simon said, chuckling under his breath. "But if anyone knows the perils of placing stock in appearances, it's Tyrion Lannister".

"Hopefully he can reign in Joffrey" Drakon said.

"My spies in King's Landing will report Tyrion's arrival. You will be the first to learn the nature of his visit, my lord" the Spymaster said.

"Very well, we'll re-convene tomorrow". The advisors bowed and left, and Drakon helped his wife to stand. "We should be expecting a new member of the family any day now" the muscular man said, placing a hand on her belly.

Jocelyn smiled sardonically. "I would prefer it if he or she would hurry and join us sooner, rather than later". Kissing Drakon on the cheek, she said "If you will excuse me, my love, I think I will raid the kitchens".

Drakon smiled to himself as he saw his wife slowly waddling down the hall. He then made his way to his room. The light of the sun was finally fading, making way for the dark of night. The muscular man looked out the window for some time, getting lost in thought. Just as he had expected, war had broken out. The Starks would unleash hell on the Lannisters for Ned Stark's death, and with two other kings making a claim for the Iron Throne, the realm would suffer. A Targaryen monarch would not have bred such infighting; it was only after the Usurper wrongfully took the throne that illegitimate bastards born of incest and viscous little boys fomented the kind of civil war that the Seven Kingdoms were experiencing.

The last Blackfyre turned to regard the wall mosaic, and he noticed something wrong; the edge of the wall, which was also the edge of the secret door, was open too far. "Guard!" he cried. A moment later, a bearded man burst into his room. "Sound the alarm!" Drakon commanded. "Have as many knights and guards as are able meet me in the courtyard at once!"

"Yes, m'lord!" the man replied, running back the way he had come.

Feeling the rage building inside him, Drakon ran out the door as the bells started ringing. His guards and knights were ready almost immediately, arming themselves scant minutes after having been awoken by the bells. Drakon eventually made it to the courtyard, where he saw two men on stolen horses racing out the main gate. "My lord!" a voice called to him, and he saw Ser Harron and three other knights approaching.

"Mount up!" Drakon ordered as he mounted his horse. Knowing that his knights and guards did the same, he urged his black mount into a full gallop out the main gate. Though night had fallen, he could still see the two thieves riding ahead, and he urged his horse to ride faster. The chase went on for several miles, and just as Drakon's mount was starting to tire from a continued gallop, he and his men came to a small hill. They stopped when they reached the top of it, and in the distance, they could see the two thieves running into a modest-sized village with a wooden keep in its centre.

"Antlers?" Drakon asked himself in slight disbelief. House Buckwell ruled there, and they had been good trade partners with his House ever since he had attained his lordship. They were also fervent Targaryen loyalists. "Lady Elyana will pay for this betrayal". He then rode down the hill, followed closely by his knights and guards, toward the town's gate.

Bringing his black mount to a stop, Drakon dismounted. Two guards standing watch atop the gate tried to bring their bows to bear, but two of Drakon's guards shot them first. Ser Gareth handed his Valyrian Steel axe, _Dragonbreath_, to him, and the last Blackfyre proceeded to hack away at the wood with his large weapon. The knights joined in, slowly hacking the gate into dozens upon dozens of wooden splinters. Eventually, they made enough progress that Drakon was able to slice the wooden beam keeping the gate closed in half.

With the gate now open, Drakon and his men made their way into the town of Antlers. Compared to his own hold, it was a small, impoverished village with a modest wooden keep in the centre. There were no Smallfolk to be encountered at this late hour, except for the drunkards, so the group made it almost all the way to the keep unmolested. As they approached, a group of House Buckwell guards clustered together, blocking their entry. "Halt!" one of them cried.

Clenching his teeth in anger, Drakon charged the group of guards, splitting one man's head in half as his men descended upon the rest, slaughtering them in due course. "Stay here and guard our backs" he commanded the dozen guards. Turning to his knights, he said "Follow me". He then used his battle axe to open the small door built into the keep's gate, leading his four knights into it. They encountered no resistance initially, but once they entered the main hall, Ser Gareth's neck was suddenly pierced with a crossbow bolt, killing him instantly.

"Get down!" Drakon ordered, only to have a bolt pierce his leg, causing him to growl in pain. Just then, several House Buckwell guards emerged from all sides, swarming toward them. Drakon, finding it difficult to stay on his feet, dispatched one guard with his axe. Another managed to surprise him, striking him across the face with the pommel of a sword. Spitting the blood in his mouth onto the floor, he could see Ser Harron killing two men with his spiked mace before he was overwhelmed. Drakon turned back to his opponent, using all of his strength to bury his battle axe into the man's shoulder.

As the corpse collapsed onto the floor, the last Blackfyre drew his Valyrian Steel dagger, using it to kill three more men before another crossbow bolt pierced his other leg, forcing him to his knees. Not going down without a fight, he took his dagger and stabbed a man between his legs, eliciting a shriek of agony. Drakon was suddenly struck on the head from behind, forcing him to collapse onto the floor.

"Enough!" a voice commanded from nearby.

Growling in pain, Drakon lifted his head enough to see a woman in a blue gown at the far end of the main hall. She was around his age, with long black hair and an attractive enough face with a hard edge to it.

"Get him up" the woman commanded, and Drakon was roughly lifted up by two of her guards. Looking to his right, he could see the two surviving knights were just as battered and wounded as he was. "After all these years", the woman said, a distinct note of satisfaction in her voice, "I'm finally going to kill you!"

Drakon stared at the woman with all the fury he could muster. "How dare you betray me, Lady Buckwell! Your house and mine are trading partners. You support House Targaryen, just as I do!"

"The Seven Hells with the Targaryens!" Lady Elyana Buckwell spat, walking up to him. "You will die for what you did, and neither the gods nor men will save you".

"Why?" Drakon demanded. "Tell me why".

"Why?" she retorted. "You ask that? You who murdered the man I loved? You who burned his body and took his name as your own?"

The realization struck Drakon like a tidal wave. "Sebastion?" he asked breathlessly.

Lady Buckwell's lip twitched in anger, even as her eyes became misty with tears. "He was everything to me!" she exclaimed. "He was coming to be with me, and you murdered him!"

The comment triggered a memory: while Drakon had been travelling with Sebastion, the other man had mentioned that he had been going north to be with his lover after having travelled for some time. That was the night before Drakon had murdered him and burned his body. "You?"

"You took him away from me" the black-haired woman said as the tears began running down her face. "Now, I am going to take back what you stole!"

It was then that Drakon saw the large pyre in the centre of the main hall. Placed on top of it was the two Dragon eggs. Turning to look at Lady Buckwell, he said "Burning them doesn't work! I've already tried placing them into a fire, but it doesn't work!"

"I know" she replied, causing Drakon to furrow his brow in confusion. "I nearly bankrupted my House, but it was worth it, in the end. The book spoke of fire, yes, but it also spoke of _blood_. That is what I am going to use. I am going to put you on that pyre, and I am going to watch you burn!" As she spoke, one of her guards took a torch and used it to light the pyre.

Suddenly, Drakon heard a commotion coming from behind him. It was the sounds of battle, which could only mean that his guards were on their way. Turning back to Lady Buckwell, he said "You are going to pay for killing my men and attacking me, my lady, with blood and fire!" Mustering all of his available strength, he wrestled his arms free before grabbing onto one of the nearest guards and sinking his teeth into the man's neck. He then tore out a piece of his throat, spitting it out an instant later.

His two remaining knights then joined the fray, and Drakon saw Ser Beric taking a torch and lighting one of the main hall's columns on fire and throwing it across the chamber as his throat was slit. Taking advantage of the distraction, Drakon tripped one of Lady Buckwell's guards. Taking the man's sword, he held it by the handle and by the blade as he pressed it against the man's throat. The last Blackfyre could feel the pain in his left hand as the blade sliced his palm, but his fury was so great that he ignored the pain. As the man's throat bled profusely, Drakon absently noted that the fire Ser Beric had started was now engulfing the entire main hall, bathing the chamber in crimson light.

Gingerly standing up, the muscular man growled in agony as he turned his attention on Lady Buckwell herself. Fully possessed with utter rage at this point, he shouted at the top of his lungs as he tackled her onto the burning pyre.

Lady Buckwell's gown almost instantly caught fire, and she started screaming as the flames started melting her flesh. Drakon knew that his clothing was on fire as well, but he couldn't feel the heat of the roaring flames. The sounds of the battle behind him were drowned out by the flames. As Lady Elyana Buckwell burned alive beneath him, Drakon noticed the two Dragon eggs beside them. They had been consumed in the flames for some time now, but they were similarly unaffected just like before. Suddenly, as Drakon began to feel the searing heat of the flames, he saw the silver egg crack, with the bronze one following suite a moment later. A loud groaning could be heard from above, and Drakon looked up just as the keep's roof, which had been burning for several minutes now, collapsed and plummeted toward him.


	23. Chapter 23 - Fire Made Flesh

**Apologies for the slight delay; I was unable to access my account all day. **

_**The following morning…**_

__Drakon shuffled through the main gate of Dragon's Rest, his throat so dry that his breaths were very ragged as he held _Dragonbreath _and the Valyrian Steel dagger in his hands. The guards standing watch at the gate openly gawked at him as he passed, but the last Blackfyre did not notice. All of his clothing had burned in the fire, leaving him naked as the day he was born. His long black hair and full beard were gone; they too had been consumed by the fire. Drakon's thick, muscled body was covered in soot and ash, but it was otherwise unburnt. As he shuffled along, the various servants stopped what they were doing, staring at him in shock and disbelief.

Drakon entered the keep, moving past more shocked servants and guards. As he rounded a corner, a small series of chirps came from his shoulders. Glancing to his right, he saw the tiny creature maintaining its grip on his shoulder. It was about the size of a cat, with two short hind legs and two wings that served as forelimbs. It was covered in small scales, and most of its body was coloured a bright silver, while most of its wing membranes were coloured gold. Glancing to his left, he saw that the creature there was almost exactly the same as the first, only its scales were coloured a dark bronze with gold wing membranes.

Finally making it to his room, Drakon pushed the door open. Inside, he looked at the bed, and saw Jocelyn. He smiled, then noticed that the sheets were covered in blood. Dropping the Valyrian Steel weapons on the floor, he made his way to the bed. As he did so, his legs finally gave out, and he fell to the floor. Mustering what little strength he had left, Drakon dragged himself forward before pulling himself up. He looked into his beloved's eyes… and saw that they were blankly staring up at the ceiling.

The last Blackfyre felt the tears run down his face as he gently stroked Jocelyn's pale cheek. It was cold to the touch, and he started sobbing; the creatures on his shoulders started mewing in sadness, taking their cue from him. It was then that he noticed the others present. Looking around, he saw Maester Lucas standing on the other side of the bed, his hands coloured red with blood. Jayne was there, as well as Rona. The two women held small bundles of cloth in their arms, and Drakon smiled… before he saw that both his daughter's and Rona's faces were red with tears. Looking back down at the bundles, and saw that they were completely still; a limp arm was sticking out of one of them, and his worst fears came true in that moment.

Letting his strength slip away, Drakon fell onto the floor, curling into a ball as he wailed in grief. The two tiny Dragons gently rubbed their heads against his before lifting their heads high and crying out in sadness.

**Thus ends Part 1, which, as you may have guessed corresponds to Season 1 of the show. Tomorrow, I'll start posting for Part 2, which corresponds to Season 2. Valar Morghulis.**


	24. Chapter 24 - The Dragon's Loss

**So, this marks the beginning of Part 2 of the story, which corresponds to Season 2 of the show. One thing you'll notice is that this will be much, much shorter than the previous part, and for that, I apologize. The simple fact of the matter is that there is not much to do in Season 2, the stuff in Qarth and the Blackwater being the most important bits. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy. Valar Dohaeris! **

_ Drakon was the only one to survive the fire that consumed the keep at Antlers. Even with crossbow wounds to his legs and severe fatigue, he managed to walk all the way back to Dragon's Rest. He had done the impossible: he had birthed Dragons into the world again. Though even such a monumental achievement did little to ease his grieving heart. The death of his wife and unborn babes was a devastating blow, one that he and his children never quite recovered from. _

_ After I had a chance to examine Jocelyn's body, I determined that she had been poisoned from food she had eaten in the kitchens that night, which also caused the twins she had been carrying to die while still in the womb. This notion was reinforced after one of the hounds died after eating from some scraps. Based on what Lord Drakon later told us, it was apparent that Jocelyn's poisoning was Lady Buckwell's final vengeance against him. _

_ Drakon himself was sent into a deep melancholy in the following weeks, and were it not for his children and baby Dragons, he likely would have descended into the depths of madness and despair. The Dragons themselves were a marvel; it was readily apparent to everyone in the keep that they grew at an astounding rate. When Drakon first brought them to Dragon's Rest, they had been the size of small cats, but after several weeks had passed, they were almost as large as modest-sized pups. They almost constantly remained at Drakon's side, following him everywhere he went. He named the silver one Rhaegon, after his fallen brother Rhaegar, and the bronze one Maelion, after his father, Maelys I. _

_ Drakon's militia was constantly growing and evolving; the war in the Riverlands was forcing thousands of refugees to pour into King's Landing and the Crownlands. This resulted in the militia in Dragon's Rest and the holds in Crackclaw Point to swell by the hundreds daily. With constant maintenance and attention, it was quickly becoming a professional fighting force to match any other. _

_**Two years ago; Beyond the Wall…**_

__Derryk and his brothers stopped walking once they arrived at Craster's Keep, the home of a Wildling north of the Wall. All the other villages for a hundred leagues were empty, leaving Craster's as the only stopping point for the Great Ranging. The black-haired young man looked at all the women walking about the camp. "That's a lot of women" he said.

"Keep your hands off em" a gruff voice replied from beside him. "Craster will take them right off if you touch one".

Derryk glanced to his left, and saw Rolfe standing beside him. The older man was a veteran Ranger, and he had taken Derryk under his wing ever since he had been made a Ranger. The young man privately wondered whether the other man had done that because the Lord Stormheart had sent him to the Wall.

"Why?" Derryk asked.

"They're his daughters", Rolfe explained, "and his wives".

Derryk was completely taken aback. "He marries his daughters?"

"Aye" the other man replied, scratching his beard. "He marries his daughters, and they give him more daughters".

Derryk scowled. "That's just foul".

Rolfe nodded before walking off, and Derryk joined Lord Commander Mormont and some of the others inside the main building. "He said he planned to stop here on his way to the Frostfangs" the Lord Commander said as he held his hands close to the fire.

"People make all sorts of plans", Craster replied. "I haven't seen Benjen Stark in three years. Haven't missed him. Always treated me like scum". After taking a sip of his drink, he said "Haven't had any good wine for a long time. You Southerners make good wine, I'll give you that".

Jon Snow made a comment to the contrary, and as the Wildling thoroughly reproached him, Derryk glanced up at the rafters. Several of Craster's daughters were up there, gazing down at him and his brothers.

"I catch that pretty little bastard talking to my daughters…" Craster warned, referring to Jon Snow.

"No one will talk to your daughters, you have my word" Lord Commander Mormont assured the man. Derryk crossed his arms before the older man continued. "We passed through six villages on our way here. All six were abandoned. Where have all the Wildlings gone?"

"I could tell you, but I'm thirsty" Craster replied, causing Derryk to roll his eyes in disgust. Having grown up in the slums of King's Landing with a mother who worked at brothels, the black-haired young man had seen his fair share of unpleasant folk, but this Craster put them all to shame. The old lecher was quickly proving to be the most unpleasant man he had ever met.

Lord Commander Mormont ordered a brother to get a barrel of wine from one of the sleds, and Craster asked "You want to know where they've all gone? North, to join up with Mance Rayder. Your old friend".

"Who's Mance Rayder?" Derryk quietly asked Rolfe, who was standing beside him.

"A Wildling who used to be a Ranger before he broke his vows and left to become 'King-Beyond-the-Wall'. Now be quiet, boy".

After extorting an axe from a brother, Craster asked "You want to know what Mance Rayder is doing? Gathering an army. What I hear, he's already got more men than any of your Southern Kings".

"And where does he plan on marching this army?" the Lord Commander asked.

"When you're all the way north, there's only one direction to go" Craster replied.

_**At Dragon's Rest…**_

__"Tyrion Lannister has arrived in King's Landing, my lord" Rona Grey said. "My spies in the capital tell me that he's been named Hand of the King in his father's stead while he fights against Robb Stark".

Drakon Blackfyre stared at the crimson tablecloth, breathing steadily. His two Dragons were perched on his shoulders, as they were almost every waking moment. His hair had finally regrown to its former length, only it was not black with a silver streak; after surviving the fire in Antlers and hatching the Dragons, Drakon's hair had somehow changed from black to completely silver, the traditional Targaryen hair colour. Since he didn't leave his keep anymore, he never bothered to dye it black, as he had done before. His beard had regrown as well, but it was similarly silver in colour.

There was a noticeable silence before Simon Groat intentionally broke it by saying "There's also news from Dragonstone. Stannis Baratheon has declared himself the true heir to the Iron Throne".

Some servants then entered, bearing plates of food and pitchers of wine. The servant who placed Drakon's food in front of him lingered for a moment, staring at his Dragons, before bowing her head and leaving with the others. The last Blackfyre held his hands close to his shoulders, palms facing upward, allowing his Dragons to hop onto them before he brought them down to the table. The small creatures walked onto the table, sniffing the large piece of cooked pork on his plate before taking bites from it.

As they were eating, Maester Lucas said "He has sent letters to all the lords of Westeros, claiming Joffrey Baratheon and his siblings as bastards born of incest, with no claim on the Iron Throne".

Drakon continued to stare at the crimson tablecloth. Taking a deep breath, he finally spoke, asking "What strength does he have?"

"All the lords of Blackwater Bay have sworn for him" Rona replied, folding her hands on her lap. "Despite that, he doesn't have a large enough force to make a significant difference in the war".

"Still, one doesn't go far betting against Stannis Baratheon" Ser Hugo added. "He's an accomplished general who's gone into two major wars and come out on top".

"I'd be willing to bet that he'd go after his brother first" Simon said sardonically. "In my experience, a brothers' quarrel takes precedence over all else".

"There's also news that he's taken up with a Red Priestess from Asshai" Rona added. "Apparently, he's converted to the religion of this 'Lord of Light' in an effort to strengthen his position".

Septa Eleanor shook her head. "Let us pray to the gods that this foreigner does not win the Iron Throne".

Drakon slowly turned to look at her, giving her a withering glare that made her look away. "The gods?" he asked, his voice dripping with menace. "The gods? Where were the gods when Rhaegar Targaryen died at the Trident, or when Jaime Lannister stabbed his father in the back? Where were the gods when the Mountain butchered his family? Where were the gods when my wife and unborn twins died?" Shaking his head in disgust, he said "We create the gods to justify our actions; that's it. They're stories we tell ourselves at night to make the world seem like it has purpose, but it doesn't. The world we live in is dark, filled with death and grief". Eventually, he sighed before asking "What news of the Princess?" Drakon asked as his Dragons continued ripping small chunks from the piece of pork on his plate.

"My birds in the east have not seen or heard from her since the death of Khal Drogo. They say that she and what little of Drogo's Khalasar remained loyal to her travelled into the Red Waste. That is the last I have heard of Princess Daenerys".

"We need to send an agent to Essos, into the Red Waste. The Princess will need all the aid she can receive, and we must do our part to ensure that House Targaryen survives".

"Of course, my lord" Rona replied. "I have just the person in mind. I assume you want to speak with her yourself?" Drakon nodded, and the grey-clad Spymaster said "I'll bring her to you this afternoon".

The last Blackfyre continued to stare at the tablecloth for some time. Eventually, he said "We'll re-convene tomorrow". The gathered advisors all rose and bowed before walking out of the room. Drakon did not move, maintaining his gaze as his Dragons finished off the pork. He then scooped them up in his hands and returned them to their perches on his shoulders before he stood and walked out of the Council chamber.

Ignoring the servants who pointedly moved out of his way, Drakon made his way to the courtyard. He took the time to look out at the servants and guards making their way here and there, noticing how they hurried once they realized that he was watching. Looking to his left, the muscular man saw his sons sparring with each other, landing savage blows as they vented their anger and frustration. Eventually, it got to the point where they dropped their practice swords and shields and wrestled each other to the ground. Ser Hugo walked up to them and broke up the fight, physically separating them. The twin boys both shook off his grip before angrily walking away.

As they went their separate ways, Drakon saw Jayne walking toward the stables. Based on her appearance, she had not bothered to let her handmaidens work on her hair or clothes. The young woman took her black horse, Ebony, out of the stables and mounted him. She then noticed that he was looking at her. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Drakon could have walked over there, to his daughter, and held her while he told her that everything was going to be all right. But as she rode off, he knew that everything was not all right. The person he had loved most in the world had been taken from him, along with his two unborn children. What was once his greatest source of strength was now his greatest source of sorrow, and there were times when he questioned whether the future would bring anything more than misery.


	25. Chapter 25 - Bitter Memories

Drakon sat stoically in the Lord's chair as a servant set a small table in front of him. Waving the man away, he took a quill and dipped it in the inkwell before he started writing on a sheet of parchment. He wrote

_Princess Daenerys, _

_My name is Drakon Blackfyre. I do not know what you may have learned, but my House is descended from yours. The blood of Old Valyria runs in my veins, just as it does yours. When I was a boy, barely able to walk, your father, King Aerys, saved my life. He brought me to the Red Keep, where I grew up with your brother, Rhaegar. I considered him my brother, and he was the finest man I have ever known. _

_On the day that the War of the Usurper ended, and King's Landing fell, I was in the Red Keep. I watched as Tywin Lannister's army sacked the city. I had made a promise to Rhaegar, before he left for war, to protect his family. I failed. The false Knight, Gregor Clegane, butchered Rhaegar's wife and children, while Jaime Lannister betrayed his oath to your father and stabbed him in the back. On that day, I failed my promise to Rhaegar, my brother. _

_For the past eighteen years, I have worked toward ousting the Usurper and returning your family to the Iron Throne. Now, the Usurper is dead, but I am still no closer to avenging your family. False kings ravage the country, bloodying one another in a desperate attempt to emerge victorious. _

_I am writing this letter to prove my loyalty, to you and House Targaryen. The person who carries it is my agent, and will serve you faithfully. _

_Should you ever have any doubt of my intentions, know this: House Blackfyre is descended from House Targaryen. My father and all my ancestors waged rebellions against your House, in an effort to win the Iron Throne. I intend to change that legacy. Rhaegar showed me how high House Targaryen can reach, and it is because of him that I swear my true allegiance to you. I will see you on the Iron Throne, and I will make my House one that my children and the people of Westeros can be proud of. _

_Drakon Blackfyre, the First of My Name, Head of House Blackfyre and servant of House Targaryen. _

Just then, the doors at the far end of the Great Hall opened, and Rona Grey entered along with another woman. She wore foreign clothes, most likely Braavosi in origin, and she had a long, thin rapier at her side. Once the two women reached the foot of the steps in front of the Lord's Chair, Rona bowed and said "My lord, may I present Olene of Braavos".

"My lord" the other woman said in accented, but flawless, common tongue as she bowed.

The Dragons on his shoulders made slight interested chirps. "What are your skills?" he asked the woman, interlocking his fingers.

"I have been studying the Water Dance of Braavos all my life" the woman replied in her accented voice. "I can also speak many languages".

Drakon arched an eyebrow. "Can you speak Dothraki?" he asked in the Horse-Lords' tongue.

"I am not as fluent in it as other languages, but I speak it well enough" Olene replied, the language seeming natural.

Drakon nodded. "How is your Valyrian?" he asked, switching to the language of his ancestors.

The Braavosi woman stood a little straighter. "I am much more proficient in Valyrian, my lord. I have studied it for many years". Her grasp of the language was excellent, and she sounded quite fluent in the old tongue.

"I can see why Rona recommended you" Drakon said. He proceeded to fold the letter he had written before picking up a container of wax from the corner of the table. Holding it close to the silver Dragon on his right shoulder, he said "_Dracarys_". The small creature breathed a thin flame onto the container, which easily melted the wax. Drakon then poured some of the black liquid on top of the folds of the letter. Putting the container away, he pressed his signet ring, which he wore on his right middle finger, into the wax. After removing the ring, he saw the three-headed Dragon seal clearly on the black wax.

With the letter in hand, he bid the servant to take the table away. He then walked down the steps, handing the letter to the Braavosi woman. "You will go to Pentos. From there, you will go east, to the Red Waste, and find Princess Daenerys. When you find her, you will have brought a second horse, with the saddlebags of both steeds filled with as much provisions and supplies as they can carry. You will give these supplies to the Princess and her people as a gesture of good faith, and you will present this letter to her". The Braavosi woman took the letter, but Drakon maintained his grip on it and said menacingly "If you open this letter before giving it to Princess Daenerys, I will know".

Olene nodded in understanding. Drakon then let her take the letter before she and Rona left the Great Hall. The Dragons on his shoulders gently nuzzled their small heads against his cheeks, and he stroked their necks in response.

The following morning, he sat at the head of the Council chamber. Jocelyn's seat was still beside him; he couldn't yet bring himself to move it. A servant had tried, a fortnight after her death; the man was still unable to walk. Rhaegon hopped down onto the table, his silver hide brilliantly gleaming from the torchlight, and curled into himself as he rested on the crimson tablecloth. Maelion elected to remain on his perch, intently gazing at each of the gathered advisors.

"Balon Greyjoy has declared himself King of the Iron Islands" Maester Lucas reported. "His son, Theon, was sent to negotiate an alliance between him and Robb Stark. Needless to say, the result was not to the Stark man's expectation".

"I expect he'll have his men raiding along the coast" Drakon surmised.

"Indeed" Ser Hugo agreed. "The Ironborn may be one of the most unpleasant groups in the Seven Kingdoms, but they're damn fine sailors and raiders".

"My birds in King's Landing tell me that Tyrion Lannister plans to wed Princess Myrcella to Prince Trystane Martell" Rona said.

Drakon glanced at the Spymaster. "Are you certain?" he asked her.

"There was some confusion" she admitted. "Apparently, there were several stories about the Princess' engagement that were making their way through the Red Keep".

"I suspect that was the Imp's doing" Drakon said, pausing to take a sip of wine. "We'd do well not to underestimate him; a man who reads for his entire life is not to be underestimated".

"How can someone be intelligent if all they've done in their life is read?" Simon asked skeptically.

Drakon gave him a withering look. "Because I have been reading my whole life" he said as Rhaegon growled at the bald man, almost as if to reinforce the seriousness of his point. Maelion growled as well, raising his wings in an effort to appear as threatening as he could. Drakon calmed them both down, gently shushing them as he stroked their necks. Simon took a drink of his own wine, having gotten the message. "We'll re-convene tomorrow" the muscular man said, waving the others out.

They all bowed and left, with the exception of Maester Lucas. "My lord…" the young man began to say.

"What do you want?" Drakon curtly asked, cutting him off.

After a moment's hesitation, the Maester said "I have some concerns about your children. Jayne and the twins are hardly ever attending their lessons, and even when they do, they are having trouble learning. They are obviously still mourning the loss of your wife".

"We all mourn for her loss" Drakon icily reminded him.

"I understand that", the younger man said, "but it has been almost four months since Lady Jocelyn passed. Perhaps it is time to move on".

Drakon fixed Maester Lucas with a lethal stare as he slowly rose from his seat. "Move on?" he asked. "You ask me to move on from the death of my wife, the woman I loved, and my two unborn children? Get out". He then scooped Rhaegon into his hand before turning to look into the burning hearth. Hanging above the mantel was one of several special mounts that held the four swords comprising House Stormheart's sigil. After the death of the Usurper at Kirth's hand, Drakon had ordered Ser Hugo to take one sword down from every mount in the keep.

"You have said that you value family above all else" the young Maester continued. "You lost the only family you had ever known when the Rebellion ended, and you started over with a new one. You managed to make a life, to take back what the world had taken from you". He paused, then said "What happened was a terrible tragedy, but you cannot let it drag you into the depths of darkness. You have to move on, to honour your wife's memory and make this world a better place".

"GET OUT!" Drakon thundered, wheeling on the Maester. Rhaegon and Maelion growled at him, taking their cues from him. The young Maester visibly recoiled before he managed to collect himself and leave the Council chamber. Returning his gaze to the burning fire, Drakon felt his rage continue to boil for some time. In the past, Jocelyn had always been there to calm him down and prevent any significant outbursts, but Jocelyn was gone. She had given him sixteen years of happy marriage, three beautiful and talented children, and a gaping hole in his heart. Drakon almost found himself wishing that he had never known the sweet, intelligent, caring woman that he had come to love, if only to be spared from the pain he now felt.

As he stared into the flickering flames, the face of his fallen brother Rhaegar formed. Just as he had done after the death of Viserys, the man he had grown up with was staring back at him, accusingly mocking him for allowing himself to fall into the pit of despair. Before Drakon could give voice to his frustrations, another face joined Rhaegar's.

It was the last face Drakon ever wanted to see. Beside Rhaegar, Jocelyn looked back at him, silently chiding him for wallowing in grief and despair for so long. The last Blackfyre opened his mouth, but no words came out. As he looked into the face of his beloved, he knew that she and Rhaegar were right. Maester Lucas had been right; he had to move on, to accept what happened and live his life.

Rhaegon chirped curiously, and Drakon looked down at the silver Dragon. The small creature cocked its head to the side, and the muscular man smiled as he returned him to his perch. He then walked out of the Council chamber, making his way to his room. For the longest time, he simply stared out the window, gazing out at the keep he and Jocelyn had built. She had been as responsible for the hold's prosperity as anyone. She had been the one to establish trade and bring several merchants and their families to live there. If he had been left on his own to create a successful hold for himself, Drakon would have failed spectacularly.

"My lord" a voice called from the door.

"Ser Hugo" Drakon greeted neutrally, maintaining his gaze out the window.

"I hope I'm not intruding" the Knight said, taking a tentative step into the room.

Drakon sighed, closing his eyes. "What do you want?" he asked, turning to look at his Captain of the Guard. The muscular man lost whatever anger he had when he saw Ser Hugo holding a bottle of wine. A few minutes later, and the two men were sitting in chairs next to the flaming hearth, glasses of wine in hand. The Dragons hopped off his shoulders, gliding down onto the floor before they curled up next to the fire. Downing the contents of his wineglass in one gulp, Drakon asked "How did you move on, after your wife died?"

Ser Hugo glanced at the fire. "I didn't. Not really. After she died, all I could think of was killing someone, someone who I could blame for her death. I was so angry for the longest time. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep; everywhere I looked, I found something that reminded me of her. As much as I hated the slavers for her death, I came to realize that no one person was responsible. Her time had come, and there was nothing I could have done about it".

Drakon glanced bitterly at the fire. "For sixteen years, I thought that I had found perfect bliss. Growing up, all I ever knew was loss. When I could barely walk, my mother and father were taken from me. I never knew them, never knew what it would have been like if they had raised me properly".

"You still had a decent upbringing" Ser Hugo reminded him.

The last Blackfyre nodded. "I did. I had the honour of growing up with the finest man I have ever known and calling him my brother".

"What was he like?" the Knight asked.

Drakon smiled, saying "He had this… aura about him. Whenever he entered the room, you were immediately swept off your feet by his very presence. When he played his lyre, it was like hearing perfection. After he learned to fight with a sword, he quickly became a master at it. I have only ever lost a duel to two men, and one of them was Rhaegar Targaryen, when we were eighteen years old". Taking another gulp of wine, Drakon said "And he was taken from me. My life was taken from me by four men: Robert Baratheon, Tywin Lannister, Jaime Lannister, and the Mountain. Three of those men are still alive, still living their lives while Rhaegar and his family have long since rotted in the ground. I was angry, for so long, and then I found Jocelyn".

"How did you two meet?" Ser Hugo asked.

"We met at Ashford" Drakon explained. "I was staying there for a time, and she ran a spice shop. It was actually Rona that introduced us; she and Jocelyn had been friends since childhood, and she would tell me about this merchant that she knew, a merchant who could sell sand to a Dornishman or gold jewelry to a Lannister. For every day that I stayed in Ashford, I would ask Rona about her mysterious merchant friend, and she would tell me more stories. Eventually, I forced her to make an introduction, and once I laid eyes on the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, I felt as if I had known her for my entire life. We were married a few months later, and I never had cause to regret it. She gave me sixteen wonderful years of marriage and three children that I am thankful for every single day".

Ser Hugo was silent for a time. Taking a sip from his wineglass, he said "I still dream about my wife. I still see her now and again, when I close my eyes or when I'm eating supper. I've never truly moved on, but I live my life knowing that she couldn't bear it if I allowed myself to stop". The Knight set his wineglass down on the floor before he stood up. "The best that you can do is to honour her memory, and keep living. This world may be one without purpose or justice, but that's why you have to keep on living, and make it that way".

He then departed, and Drakon kept staring into the fire as the memory of his wife continued to haunt him.


	26. Chapter 26 - Moving On

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_**In the Red Waste…**_

Olene of Braavos brought her grey horse to a stop as she looked out at the vast expanse of desert. There appeared to be nothing for miles around, and the Braavosi woman was starting to question whether she would ever find the Princess or not. The Red Waste was one of the most inhospitable expanses in the known world, and surviving in such a place was something that bordered on the impossible.

Olene urged her horse, as well as the second horse Lord Blackfyre had commanded her to bring, forward. It had already been several weeks since he had sent her east, and while the chances of the last Targaryen still being alive were virtually none, the Braavosi had been commanded by Lord Blackfyre to find the Princess and serve her. Suddenly, she came to a stop as she heard a wail coming from the distance. It didn't sound like an animal's wail, for almost no animals of any kind lived in the Red Waste. It sounded like the wail of a woman, a woman in agony or grief.

Deciding that it was all she had to go on, Olene urged her mounts forward once more, riding in the general direction of the wail. After riding for half an hour, a group of shapes slowly became visible, and Olene was hoping that her search had come to an end. Eventually, she came within sight of a ragged-looking group of Dothraki. As she came closer and closer, Olene could make out three people next to a horse. One was a man who looked as if he hailed from Westeros, a weeping Dothraki woman kneeling beside the horse, and a young girl with very distinctive silver hair. The trio took notice of her approach, and the man drew his sword while the two women backed away.

"I come in peace" Olene called in Dothraki, bringing her horses to a stop.

"Who are you?" the man asked in reply, his grasp of the Dothraki language less blunt than hers.

The Braavosi woman dismounted, slowly walking toward the man. He raised his sword, clearly expecting a fight. Olene stopped several paces away from him. "I was sent to serve the Princess Daenerys" she said.

"How do we know that you are telling the truth?" the silver-haired girl asked.

"Stay back, Khaleesi" the man warned using the common tongue.

Olene retrieved Lord Blackfyre's letter, holding it out to the middle-aged man; as promised, the seal was unbroken. Keeping his eyes on her, he took it. Examining the wax seal, he was clearly a little confused before he handed it to the young girl. She appeared confused as to the seal as well before opening the letter. As she read it, Olene could see the girl's expression change. Though she did not know what was written on the letter itself, the Braavosi woman could tell that its contents clearly affected her. The silver-haired girl said "It's all right, Jorah; we can trust her".

The man, still appearing to be somewhat suspicious of Olene, sheathed his sword.

Showing him the letter, the girl asked "Do you know of this Lord Blackfyre?"

He nodded. "I met him before your wedding to Khal Drogo. We can trust him".

Olene knelt before the silver-haired girl, saying "Princess Daenerys, I am Olene of Braavos. Please accept these supplies and provisions as a gesture of good faith. Lord Blackfyre wishes you to know that he supports you in all things. I also ask the honour of serving you".

The man, Jorah, gestured to the rapier at her side. "Can we assume that you practice the Water Dance of Braavos?"

"Yes" Olene replied. Turning to look at the Princess, she said "Princess, allow me the honour to become the first of your Queensguard. I vow to serve you, to obey all your commands and to protect your life, even at the cost of my own".

The Princess did not say anything for several moments. Eventually, she walked up to Olene and placed her hands on the woman's shoulders. Gently raising her up, she said "I accept your service, Olene of Braavos. You have helped me and my people in a trying time, and for that, I am grateful. I would be honoured to have you at my side".

Despite having just met the Princess, Olene couldn't help but feel empowered by her presence. Lord Blackfyre appeared to have sworn allegiance to the right person.

_**At Dragon's Rest…**_

__Drakon glanced over at Jayne as both of their horses gently trotted through the countryside. His daughter had mounted Ebony and ridden out of the keep so fast that he had barely caught up to her. She had once again not allowed her handmaidens to fix her appearance, and as a result, her hair was messy, and the bags under her eyes showed that she wasn't getting any sleep of late.

Maelion rested at the front of Ebony's saddle, against Jayne's belly, while Rhaegon was perched on Drakon's right shoulder. The Dragons had continued to grow over the last several weeks, and they were already the size of small pups. Luckily, the Dragons' presence had proved to be beneficial; Jayne had grown to enjoy them, and would have otherwise ridden off if they had not been present.

Drakon looked up at the bright sky. "Do you remember when you were seven, and Ebony's mother died?"

"Of course I remember" Jayne growled, clearly not in the mood to reminisce.

Not to be deterred, Drakon said "You were so upset that you cried for days. You wouldn't eat, you wouldn't sleep; your mother and I had to give you Essence of Nightshade at one point".

"Is there a point to this story?"

Taking a deep breath, Drakon continued. "Eventually, your mother sat down with you and told you 'Don't cry, sweet girl. Ebony's mother is at rest, now. All things have an end, and she found hers. You need to move on; Ebony will need someone to take care of her'. After that, you stopped crying and spent almost every waking hour with Ebony, feeding her, grooming her, everything that forged the bond you two have to this day".

"I don't want to listen to stories about mother!" Jayne shouted.

"Jayne" Drakon said, grabbing her shoulder. The two mounts came to a stop, and his eldest child finally looked at him. Her eyes were misty with tears, and it pained him to see her like that; to him, she would always be his beautiful baby girl who spent her days taking care of her horse instead of learning embroidery or other 'ladylike' pursuits. Sighing, Drakon said "Your mother is gone. It…" the words suddenly caught in his throat, and he felt tears starting to run down his cheeks. "It's time that we moved on. She wouldn't want us all to let our grief consume us".

Jayne's tears finally started running down her cheeks. "I had no one to talk to" she croaked. Looking out at the countryside, she said "After… after she died, everyone became so closed off. Edric and Edwyn started getting angrier every day and hitting each other with their practice swords, and you stopped talking to us altogether. You just retreated inwards, only showing affection to your Dragons".

Drakon glanced at Rhaegon, who looked at him intently. Looking back at Jayne, he said "I'm your father, and it is my responsibility to comfort you in times like this. I failed; I allowed my grief to consume every part of my being, and I ignored the plight of my own children. I'm sorry, Jayne".

His daughter then took his hand in hers. "I held my baby brother in my arms. I held him… but he never lived, and I watched Rona holding my baby sister. I watched my mother bleed to death in front of my eyes, and then you came in, covered in ash and carrying two Dragons". Maelion perked up at the comment, cocking his head to the side as he looked up at Jayne. They then dismounted, and she finally gave in to her emotions, and as the tears started flowing, Drakon took her into his arms and held her close. Belatedly, he noticed the two Dragons nuzzling their heads against both him and Jayne. It was in that moment that he realized that they were his children, just as much as Jayne, Edric, and Edwyn, and he would never fail in his duty as a father again to any of them.


	27. Chapter 27 - Escalating Events

_**To the east; In Qarth…**_

__Olene and the Khalasar entered the great city of Qarth, the so-called "Greatest city that ever was or will be". The Braavosi woman had a hard time arguing against that assumption. It was certainly grand, and it had an air of history that matched her home of Braavos.

"Vaes Dothrak only good city" one of the Khaleesi's Bloodriders said from atop his horse. "Khaleesi should destroy it, like Khal Drogo wanted".

"The Milk Men trust us now" Olene replied in Dothraki. "Perhaps after we will strike, from inside". The Bloodrider nodded, looking around as if to size up a potential conquest. Eventually, they were all settled in the estate of Xaro Xhoan Daxos, one of the Thirteen and the man who brought them under his protection. Olene was cautious around him; the man struck her as someone who wanted power and wealth, and would do anything to acquire it. After all, there was nothing more powerful than a Dragon, and the Khaleesi had three.

The Braavosi woman stood guard inside the entrance to the Khaleesi's room. She watched as the silver-haired girl taught her biggest Dragon to breathe fire, using the exact same word Lord Blackfyre had used to command his Dragons to breathe fire. The Khaleesi then examined the dress that Xaro had prepared for her, clearly wanting to try it on. Looking up, she approached Olene and said "I need you to do something for me".

"Anything, Khaleesi" Olene replied.

"I need you to go out into the city and learn what you can. Xaro is hosting the Thirteen and many of the city's elite to a party right here in his home, and I am expected to attend".

Olene bowed her head. "Of course, Khaleesi". She then departed, watching as Ser Jorah went about convincing the Dothraki to not steal anything they found.

_**At Dragon's Rest…**_

__"Renly Baratheon is dead" Maester Lucas said.

"Dead? How?" Drakon asked, turning to Rona.

The grey-clad Spymaster shrugged. "I can honestly say that I don't know, my lord. Some say that one of his own Kingsguard killed him, while others claim that it was Stannis himself. Others say that it was the work of black magic at the hands of Stannis' Red Priestess".

Drakon could see Septa Eleanor and Gammer Wilde whispering silent prayers in the face of this foreign religion. "What about his forces? Last we heard, he had 100 000 men at his command".

"The Tyrells have gone home" Ser Hugo said. "They made up the bulk of Renly's army. Still, the Stormlords have sworn for Stannis, giving him a large army to match his already sizeable fleet".

"Do we know where he'll strike?"

"My money's on King's Landing" the Knight wagered. "Dragonstone is not too far away, all of the Lannister armies are fighting in the Riverlands, and the City Watch is only a few thousand strong. With the kind of army he now commands, Stannis could easily take the city".

Drakon nodded. It was the most likely option for the King in the Narrow Sea, and the man was very familiar with the city itself; he would know where the point was weakest and throw all of his strength against it. Luckily, he wasn't the only one who possessed a certain familiarity with King's Landing. The Dragons on his shoulders chirped, and Drakon put them on the table, where a plate full of meat was before him. "_Dracarys_" he said, and the two creatures breathed light flames on the meat, cooking it within seconds.

"We've received a message from Lord Varys" Rona said, folding her hands on her lap. "There is a rumor circulating around King's Landing that a member of our House is spying against Joffrey for enemies of the crown".

"What makes Varys think that the spy is from our House?" Drakon asked. Taking his knife and fork in hand, he cut himself a piece of meat from his plate. As he did so, Rhaegon and Maelion stopped eating and curiously watched as he ate the piece. They both cocked their heads to the side, watching for a few moments before they continued to gorge themselves.

Rona shook her head. "I don't know; it is a rumor, after all. It could just be a falsehood, or something spread by our enemies".

"And do you have anyone spying on the false King?" Drakon asked as he ate another piece of meat.

"We have spies in King's Landing and the Red Keep, of course, but not for our enemies; and even if we did have someone spying on the King, I would never have someone that sloppy do the task".

Drakon nodded, staring at the crimson tablecloth. Events were transpiring that required a more direct presence in the capital. Turning to Ser Hugo, he said "Ser Hugo, you will take fifty men and go to the capital".

"I will?" he asked, clearly taken by surprise.

"You will. You will present yourself to the boy Joffrey and tell him that you will help train the Goldcloaks and help strengthen the city's defenses".

"Is that all?" the Knight asked.

Drakon stared into the man's eyes long and hard. "You will train the Goldcloaks, and when Stannis attacks the city, you will ensure that his men breach the city walls and kill every last fucking Lannister you can find".

The gathered advisors were all silent; they knew, of course, of Drakon's hatred for the Lannisters and his desire to avenge Rhaegar Targaryen's family, but the venom inherent in his words drove home just how strongly he felt about it.

"My lord", Ser Hugo said, resting his hands on the table, "Stannis Baratheon is our enemy. Why would you want him to take King's Landing?"

"Stannis Baratheon is our enemy" Drakon agreed. "But he is the one best-suited to deal the Lannisters a crippling blow. Until Princess Daenerys is in a position to claim the Iron Throne, this will have to do". Turning to Rona, he said "You'll go with him".

"My lord?" the grey-clad Spymaster asked, also clearly taken by surprise.

"You and Carellen Stokeworth will accompany Ser Hugo to King's Landing" Drakon explained. "Once you arrive, you will meet with Lord Varys and track down this supposed spy".

The woman nodded. "If we do locate a spy working against us, then what should we do?"

"Deal with the problem" Drakon replied. Turning to look at the other advisors, he asked "Now, how is the hold doing?"

"Trade from the east h-has been interrupted, my l-lord" Alvyn said, examining a piece of parchment. "With all the houses of Blackwater B-Bay swearing for Stannis B-Baratheon, all trade through that area has ceased to come into t-the Crownlands".

"Luckily, we've been stockpiling supplies for long enough that we can weather the storm" Simon said. Taking a sip of wine, he added "For now".

Drakon nodded before eating a final piece of meat.

"The resources we acquired after absorbing House Buckwell's former lands have also given us a new stream of funds" Simon added.

As Rhaegon and Maelion finished stripping the meat from the bone on the plate, Drakon said "Let us hope that we can survive this storm" as the two creatures hopped back onto his shoulders.

_**At Winterfell…**_

__Kirth took a swig of wine from his mug as the sun continued to shine down from above. After he had stayed with the Northern army in Riverrun for a time, the minstrel had been sent to Winterfell, to keep a weather eye on dealings in the Stark capital now that the young cripple was in charge. That had been many weeks ago, and absolutely nothing of import had been happening.

Yesterday, Ser Rodrik Cassel had been sent out with a couple hundred men to retake Torrhen's Square from an Ironborn raid. That had been the most exciting thing to happen since Kirth had arrived, and he had once again resigned himself to a night of drunken debauchery. The minstrel was just about to get up in order to make his way to the local brothel when several men climbed the walls of Winterfell with grappling hooks. They killed the few guards that remained, brutalizing and cowing all of the servants and Smallfolk present.

Barely an hour later, Kirth, along with everyone else, watched as Bran Stark yielded Winterfell to Theon Greyjoy, the treacherous former Stark ward. The attack on Torrhen's Square had most likely been a distraction, one that allowed Theon and his Ironborn scum to claim the ancient Stark seat. Suddenly, a few of the Greyjoy men brought a wounded Rodrik Cassel forward. The elder Stark Master-At-Arms spat in "Prince" Theon's face, which resulted in him kneeling before a makeshift chopping block. Kirth watched in disgust as Theon attempted to behead the older man, only to botch it. The traitor then savagely hacked at the old man's neck before finally kicking his head off, much to the anger of the crowd.

The minstrel knew at that moment that it would be a while before he got word back to his cousin.

_**A few days later; in King's Landing…**_

__Ser Hugo watched as the boat carrying Princess Myrcella slowly made its way from the dock toward the ship that would take her to Dorne, and her new betrothed. Beside him, Sansa Stark quietly said "I hope she'll be happy".

"The Princess is a kind girl, and the Martells are honourable in their own way; she'll be fine". The Knight then heard the boy King Joffrey berate the young Stark girl after she offhandedly commented that she had seen him crying once. Lord Blackfyre never referred to Joffrey as King; he always called him a vicious bastard boy, and at that moment, Ser Hugo found himself wholeheartedly agreeing with his liege. The gods had been scraping at the bottom of the barrel when they let a psychotic boy like that sit on the Iron Throne. With the farewell for Princess Myrcella done, Ser Hugo gently placed his hand on Sansa Stark's shoulder as he led her from the dock. "Come my lady, let's get you back to the Red Keep".

Five of the men that had accompanied him from Dragon's Rest were behind him as the royal party made its way from the shore; the rest were back in the Red Keep. Throngs of Smallfolk were all around them, watching with beady eyes. Ser Hugo kept a weather eye on them; the fighting in the Riverlands had seen thousands of refugees pouring into the capital, and the Tyrells had ceased all food shipments from the Reach ever since they had declared for Renly Baratheon. Even with Renly dead, the sheer volume of starving refugees in King's Landing was a significant problem.

Several people in the crowd shouted at the boy King, reminding him that they were starving as they vented many of their frustrations. Ahead, Ser Hugo could see Tyrion Lannister sending a few of the Lannister soldiers with Prince Tommen back to the Red Keep via a different way; clearly, he was just as nervous about the crowd as Ser Hugo was. Suddenly, a piece of cow shit impacted Joffrey's face, causing all of his Kingsguard to draw their swords. "Who threw that?" the boy demanded. "I want the man who threw that! Find who did that and bring him to me!" The crowd started shouting and cursing, and Joffrey shouted "Just kill them! Kill them all!"

Ser Hugo and his men drew their blades as the crowd erupted into a full riot. That vicious bastard had just signed a death wish for all of them. The Knight could see that the small number of Goldcloaks couldn't possibly hold back the waves of starving Smallfolk who were venting their rage against an idiotic King. A thin, frail man tried to grab his throat, but Ser Hugo struck him across the face with the pommel of his sword, knocking him to the ground. The royal party was hard-pressed as it forced its way forward through the rioting crowd. To his right, Ser Hugo saw the High Septon being torn apart by several of the rioters. Turning to his men, he said "We need to hold them back! Only kill if you have absolutely no choice!" The five men nodded, and the Knight growled in frustration as they moved forward.

"Protect the King!" one of the Kingsguard shouted as they finally managed to get the King and Queen Regent to safety. Two Smallfolk tackled Ser Hugo against the wall, trying to claw at him with their ragged fingernails. The Knight head-butted one of them, sending the man staggering as he punched the other. Tightly gripping his sword, he stabbed the one man through the chest before removing his blade and slicing the other man across the torso. Reaching into his coin purse, he took out several coins and threw them toward the crowd, back in the direction they had come from. The coins had the desired effect of distracting enough of the Smallfolk to allow Ser Hugo and his men to reach the Red Keep. Once they were inside, he said "Close the gate!" The heavy iron gate slammed shut, and they could finally relax… for now. Turning to his men, Ser Hugo said "Don't get too comfortable, lads; we've got to help the Goldcloaks put this riot down".

It wasn't until the following morning that Ser Hugo and the Goldcloaks managed to end the riot. There was no telling how many had died, and the Knight didn't care to venture a guess.


	28. Chapter 28 - A King and a Dragon

_**In Qarth…**_

__Olene stood behind Princess Daenerys, next to Kovarro, one of her Bloodriders, as she and Xaro Xhoan Daxos stood before the Thirteen. The Braavosi woman had returned from her mission of exploration to find corpses strewn across Xaro's estate, and a distraught Princess whose Dragons had been taken.

"I did not leave the comfort of my home to come to yours and be called a thief" the Spice King angrily spat.

"No one is calling you a thief" Xaro replied.

"Who is she to accuse us?"

"Please, they're my children. I'm begging you" the Princess said, the desperation in her voice clearly evident.

"Begging us?" another of the Thirteen sardonically asked. "It wasn't very long ago you were threatening us".

"Without me, the Dragons will die" the Princess pleaded.

"It will be for the best. Your Dragons will bring the world nothing but death and misery, my dear" the Spice King said. "If I knew where they were, I would not tell you".

"You are cruel, my friend" Pyat Pree spoke up. The Warlocks' representative had always unnerved Olene, with his blue lips and gaunt features. "The Mother of Dragons is in the right. She must be reunited with her babies". Turning to the Princess, the Warlock said "I will help you, Khaleesi".

"How?" the silver-haired girl asked.

"I will take you to the House of the Undying where I have put them".

The Princess was shocked. "You have my Dragons?"

"When I learned you were coming to our city, I made and arrangement with the King of Qarth". The comment caused the rest of the Thirteen to chuckle derisively. "He procured them for me".

"But there is no King of Qarth" the Princess objected.

"There is now" Xaro Xhoan Daxos said, standing up. "That was the other half of the arrangement". Olene gripped the handle of her rapier as the man turned to the rest of the Thirteen. "You would keep your gates and your minds closed to everything outside your walls, but Qarth cannot remain the greatest city that ever was if it refuses to change. I will open Qarth to the world as I have forced it to open itself to me".

The Princess started slowly backing up, and Olene and Kovarro were tense as they prepared for imminent danger.

"Your ambition is an inspiration", the Spice King said. "But like all upstarts, you overreach. Three Dragons the size of cats and an alliance with a charlatan do not make you a King".

Xaro nodded. "An upstart and a charlatan? Empires have been built by less. Those on the margins often come to control the centre, and those in the centre make room for them, willingly or otherwise".

Pyat Pree then took a step toward the Thirteen. "The Mother of Dragons will be with her babies". Turning to look at the Princess, he said "She will give them her love and they will thrive by her side, forever". All of the servants in the room then stepped forward and slit the throats of the Thirteen sitting at the table, and they all looked like Pyat Pree.

Olene drew her rapier as Kovarro and the Princess ran for the door. Suddenly, as she caught up with them, Pyat Pree somehow appeared in front of them. He smiled, and then a blade emerged from his chest. The Warlock did not appear to be any different as he said "A mother should be with her children". His body then disappeared, leaving only his purple robe as he suddenly appeared to their right. "Where will you run to, Daenerys Stormborn? Your Dragons wait for you in the House of the Undying. Come see them".

Olene lead the way as Ser Jorah and Kovarro escorted the Princess outside. Yet another Pyat Pree appeared, and the Braavosi woman flourished her rapier before driving the thin weapon into the Warlock's throat. The gaunt man smiled before he disappeared, leaving behind his purple robe once more. The group then made their escape, fleeing the madness that now gripped Qarth.

_**In the Red Keep…**_

__Rona Grey and Carellen Stokeworth approached Lord Varys in the Small Council Chamber; no one else was present, so it would serve as a quiet meeting place. The portly Master of Whisperers took Rona's hand. "Mistress Grey, such a pleasure" he greeted.

"Lord Varys" Rona greeted. There were many men she was nervous around, and many that she believed warranted constant attention, but she could honestly say that Varys was the one person in all of Westeros whom she truly feared.

Folding his hands in front of himself, the hairless man said "I've been wanting to make your acquaintance for a long time. Our birds have often come together in several matters of import".

"Yes" the grey-clad woman agreed neutrally.

"I would be greatly saddened if I had to report any rumors of potential treason on your lord's part" Varys said. "People like you or I are a very rare breed, and I would hate if anything should happen to you".

"I can assure you that my lord is not spying on the King for his enemies" Rona replied. "Have you told anyone else?"

"Not yet". Varys glanced about before he said "But I would not put the King at risk. How would it look if anything should happen to him and I knew about it beforehand?"

"All I ask is that you wait a few days and allow me to solve this problem" Rona said. Varys was not one to trifle with, and she had to treat him with the respect he deserved.

Eventually, he said "Very well. But I must warn you: if your efforts are for naught, then I will have no choice but to inform the King". He then walked off, leaving Rona and her female bodyguard alone with the implications.

As she turned around to speak with Carellen Stokeworth, Rona caught sight of someone hastily moving down the hall. Wordlessly, she ran after whomever it was, intent on eliminating the potential stain on Lord Blackfyre's name. She rounded a corner, and found a knife held to her throat. Before the cloaked individual could do anything, an axe impacted the wall nearby, falling to the floor. Taking advantage of the distraction, Rona deftly relieved the spy of their weapon just as whoever it was elected to run. As Carellen Stokeworth picked up her weapon, the Spymaster caught a whiff of spices before continuing the pursuit.

After pursuing the spy for some time, Rona and her bodyguard finally lost them in the slums of Flea Bottom. The grey-clad woman had always hated the slums, but even she had to recognize that they could be a great source of information. After they had discreetly asked around for a few minutes, the two women tracked down the supposed House Stormheart spy to the villa of a spice merchant, which explained the smell Rona had detected back in the Red Keep. Sniffing the air around the villa, she said "Saffron; that was what the eavesdropper smelled like. We need to get in there".

Seeing that the nearest entrance was guarded, Rona found several nearby orphans. After handing them a bag of coins, she and her bodyguard watched as they swarmed around the two guards, taking their coin purses. As the two men pursued the orphans, the two women entered the villa. They did not get very far before they saw the cloaked individual who had been spying on them. "You again!" the figure growled, her voice clearly feminine, as she drew a second knife.

Rona drew back her hood, revealing her brown hair which was tied into a bun. The Spymaster drew the two slender stilettos that held her hair in place, keeping her eyes on the other woman as she prepared for battle. The cloaked woman lunged for her, and Rona managed to hold her attention long enough for Carellen Stokeworth to go around and pin the spy by holding her arms. Rona approached, drawing the woman's hood back and revealing her face. The Spymaster was quite surprised; the woman before her was one of the most beautiful she had ever seen, with flawless alabaster skin, long, flowing silver hair, violet eyes, and thin, ruby lips. "Well done", the woman said, "my brother certainly found himself a capable servant in you".

"Who is your brother?" Rona asked.

"Your lord, Drakon Blackfyre" the silver-haired woman replied with a smirk, a smirk that disappeared when Rona held the point of a stiletto against her throat.

"Never say that name" the grey-clad Spymaster warned. After glancing at their surroundings, she asked "My lord doesn't have any siblings".

"None that he knows of" the other woman replied. "My name is Visenya Blackfyre. I may have a different mother than him, but we share the same father".

Rona considered the woman's claim. Lord Drakon had never spoken of any half-siblings before, and it was not unreasonable to believe that his father had bedded more than one woman. "How do I know you're not just spinning a fanciful tale to save your own skin?"

"How many people in Westeros have silver hair?" the other woman countered.

Rona found herself agreeing with that assessment; the Targaryen features of silver hair and violet eyes were unique to that bloodline, and this woman certainly had all of them. The Spymaster found herself unsure as to what her next course of action should be. On the one hand, if she was telling the truth, then Visenya was Lord Blackfyre's kin. He had stated repeatedly in the past that he valued family above all else, and Rona had sworn to defend his family at any cost. On the other hand, even if this woman was telling the truth, she had almost brought dishonour to Lord Blackfyre's name and House, and that was something that the Spymaster could not allow.

Eventually, she sighed, and said "Let her go". Carellen Stokeworth appeared to be unsure, but Rona nodded and she released her hold on the silver-haired woman.

"Thank you" Visenya said, putting her knife away.

She started to walk away, but Rona held her arm in a tight grip. "Do not bring dishonour to my lord" she warned.

"I won't" Visenya replied. "I have everything I came for".

Rona then released her grip, and she watched as the other woman walked out of the villa and into the slum of Flea Bottom. Using the stilettos to tie her hair into a bun, she drew her grey hood and turned to Carellen Stokeworth. "We keep this silent" she said. "Lord Blackfyre doesn't need to know about this".


	29. Chapter 29 - The Battle of Blackwater

"Use a tighter grip!" Ser Hugo shouted. "Your sword isn't going to bite you; that's what your opponent's sword will do!" The Knight watched as the fifty men that had accompanied him from Dragon's Rest sparred with some of the Goldcloaks that had been pressed into service. Normally, their numbers were constant at 2000, but that number had swelled by the thousands since the war had started, and those new City Watchmen were ill-trained, inexperienced men who had probably never held a sword before. That much was evident based on what Ser Hugo was seeing.

The 2000 veterans were, generally speaking, well-trained, so they were fine on their own. The new recruits, on the other hand, were proving to be one of the greater challenges of Ser Hugo's life. "When you're fighting a man for real, and he tries everything he can to kill you, you damn well better kill him first!" he shouted. The various recruits, exhorted by his words, noticeably fought harder than they had been, but it wasn't making much of a difference. "When you're in a battle, one of the things that can kill you is tiring yourself out! Stannis Baratheon is coming, and he has tens of thousands of men-at-arms that are coming with him! Now, unless we have an army hidden away somewhere, the battle is going to last for a long time! If you spend all of your strength in the beginning, then you'll be too tired and too slow to kill anyone else!"

After he and the 50 men from Dragon's Rest had done all they could with the recruits, Ser Hugo found himself in the Red Keep, escorting the Queen Regent and the other noblewomen to Maegor's Holdfast. Stannis and his fleet would arrive within the next few hours, and the entire city was preparing for the sole remaining Baratheon brother's assault. Suddenly, the Knight felt the Queen Regent gripping his arm tightly. "Will Stannis break through?" she asked, the fear evident in her eyes. "Will he reach the keep?"

Ser Hugo, very careful about what he said around the vicious Lannister woman, replied "The city has strong walls, it has well-trained men protecting it, and it has your brother leading the defense". The mention of the Imp soured the Queen Regent's face, and she walked off appearing unconvinced. Two of his men then approached, and the Knight muttered to himself "You people don't stand a chance". He then walked away, making his way out of the Red Keep and over to the Mud Gate, the weakest point on the wall and Stannis' most likely target.

Once he arrived, he met with the fifty men that had come with him from Dragon's Rest, who were gathered near the Lannister men who were preparing to defend the gate. "Will, Cooper, Darion, Martyn, and Cedric, you're with me" he said quietly. "The rest of you, stay inside the gate. When it falls, kill all the Lannister men and let Stannis' men through". They all nodded their understanding, and Ser Hugo walked off with the five men he had named to one of the secret tunnel entrances that dotted the city. Lord Blackfyre had given him a detailed path that would take him outside the wall, and the Knight soon found that his lord had been correct. He and his five men emerged from a sewer grate and onto the beach. With the gate ahead of them, Ser Hugo and his men crouched down, having a clear line of sight to the Lannister archers posted along the walls. Turning to one of his men, he asked "Did you bring the helmets?"

Cooper nodded, passing a Baratheon-style helmet to each of them; the helmets, combined with the chaos of the battle to come, would help disguise each of them and ensure their anonymity should the battle turn against Stannis, which was highly unlikely.

Will then distributed the bows, and each man nocked an arrow, waiting to fire until Stannis' men landed. They watched as a single ship from the Lannister fleet sailed toward the Baratheon fleet. "One ship?" Darion asked incredulously.

"Aye; best be ready for anything" Ser Hugo warned, wary of any plan the Imp may have concocted. The ship sailed forward, making its way a little into the midst of the Baratheon fleet, when a flaming arrow suddenly flew through the air, toward the single ship. "What in the Seven Hells?" he asked. The arrow landed behind the ship, and the water erupted into brilliant green flames. "Wildfire!" the Knight exclaimed moments before the single ship exploded, consuming several of Stannis' ships in a brilliant green firestorm. He could only watch in horror as sailors aboard the ships burned alive and several of the ships sank into the Blackwater.

Luckily, the majority of Stannis' fleet was still intact, and soon hundreds of long boats made their way to the shore. The first boat to land deposited its troops, and a man who could only be Stannis Baratheon led the charge along with hundreds of his men. "Let loose!" Ser Hugo ordered his men before he fired an arrow toward the archers along the wall. At the same time, arrows began to rain down on the Baratheon troops, killing many of those who set foot on the shore. Ser Hugo and his five men continued to fire at the Lannister archers for some time, until they saw several Lannister men coming out of the Mud Gate. Turning to his men, Ser Hugo said "Let's skin some Lions!" The Knight and three of the soldiers discarded their bows and drew their swords, joining the other Baratheon troops as they engaged the Lannisters.

Easily dispatching a Lannister soldier, Ser Hugo looked to his left and saw the Hound, the King's personal butcher, savagely cut Darion in half. Seeing one of his comrades die in such a manner made the Knight fight that much harder, slicing a Lannister soldier across the torso with his sword. He then heard a shriek of pain, and saw that the skinny Lannister boy, Lancel, grimacing from an arrow that had pierced his shoulder. Turning around, Ser Hugo saw Cooper nodding at him, meaning that he had wounded the Kingslayer's cousin.

Eventually, the Lannisters fell back through the gate, and the Baratheon troops brought ladders and a battering ram to bear. It wouldn't be long now; Ser Hugo and his men only had to hold out for a little while longer before the Mud Gate fell. Suddenly, Will ran up beside him, saying "The Imp's leading a sortie; he's coming through the tunnel!"

Ser Hugo growled in anger. "Get the others, and let's get past the tunnel; we need to get more Baratheon reinforcements over here, and we can't let the Imp see our faces. Go, now!" The other man nodded before he ran off to gather the three others. Soon, they ran past the sewer grate moments before the Imp and the remaining Lannister troops came out. Turning around, Ser Hugo could see them overcoming the Baratheon soldiers at the Mud Gate. A minute later, they then found a large number of Stannis' men who were attacking another part of the wall. "The Mud Gate's fallen!" he shouted. "This way!" With him and the three others from Dragon's Rest in the lead, the large number of troops charged back to the Mud Gate. Ser Hugo could see that the Lannister soldiers had burned the battering ram, and he focused all of his battlefield rage on them.

The two forces crashed into one another, and Ser Hugo killed several Lannister soldiers. After beheading an opponent, he saw Martyn fighting with the Imp before one of the Lannister men tackled him to the ground. Before he could see any more, another man tried to stab him in the chest with a thrust. The Knight swatted the man's blade aside before he stabbed him through the face, killing him instantly.

Suddenly, a horn sounded from behind, and Ser Hugo watched as a large force of cavalry thundered toward them. They were carrying both Lannister and Tyrell colours. "Seven Hells!" he cursed, knowing that the battle had taken a sudden and drastic turn as he discarded his helmet. Finding Cedric, he said "Get your helmet off! Tell the others, too; we can't afford to be mistaken for Baratheon men!" Ser Hugo just finished speaking when he watched as Cedric was killed by a Lannister sword as the rider struck him with his horse. Everything then became black.


	30. Chapter 30 - A Song of Ice

The blackness eventually began to fade, and Ser Hugo found himself staring up at the ceiling with a massive throbbing pain in his head. Groaning, he sat up, realizing after the fact that he was in the Goldcloak barracks near the Dragon Gate.

"You took quite a hit" someone said from nearby.

"Being rammed by a horse was just as painful as I thought it might be" the Knight replied sardonically. He could see that two of the veteran members of the Goldcloaks were with him. "Judging by my present state of living, I'm assuming we won?"

"Oh we won, alright" the second Goldcloak said with a distinct smile. "Stannis Baratheon almost made it through the Mud Gate, but Tywin Lannister showed up at the last minute, with the Tyrells, no less!"

"I recall seeing a golden rose or two" Ser Hugo said.

"Stannis was sent back across the Blackwater with his tail between his legs".

"Hurrah, hurrah" the Knight said, sounding pleased. Internally, he knew that Lord Blackfyre would be furious. While he considered almost every High Lord in Westeros to be his enemy, the man hated the Lannisters above all, and he would not be pleased that they all got to live longer.

"I hear you're getting honoured" one of the Goldcloaks told him.

"Honoured?"

"Now that Lord Tywin is going to be the new Hand of the King, the Imp's Sellsword isn't Commander of the City Watch anymore; you are".

The comment surprised Ser Hugo, to say the least. "Me? I'm just a Knight from a minor hold in the Crownlands".

The two men chuckled. "You were the one who trained the raw recruits before the battle, and you were one of the bastards leading the defense of the wall; in honour of that, the King has decided to name you as Lord Commander of the City Watch".

Ser Hugo couldn't believe it; two years ago, he was happy enough to kill the slavers that had killed his wife. After that, he found satisfaction in serving as Captain of the Guards for Lord Blackfyre. Now, he was going to be named as the new Lord Commander of the City Watch. Even as he stood only a few feet from Tywin Lannister astride his horse a few hours later, the Knight could still hardly believe his fortunes. Before he rode into the Great Hall of the Red Keep in grand fashion, the elder man's horse dropped a sizeable shit on the floor. The smell started wafting through the air as Joffrey proclaimed his grandfather the new Hand of the King. Once the mounted Lannister trotted out of the Great Hall, and once the boy King agreed to marry Margaery Tyrell, Ser Hugo entered, keeping his head high as he walked in between the crowd of courtiers and nobles.

"I hereby name Ser Hugo Flint, Knight of the Realm, as Lord Commander of the City Watch" the boy King loudly proclaimed as the Knight knelt before the Iron Throne.

"Thank you, Your Grace" he replied. "I swear by all the gods to carry out my duties with honour and integrity, and to always serve the true ruler of the Seven Kingdoms". With that, he stood and walked out of the Great Hall. He had just been thrown from the frying pan and into the fire; only time would tell if he would get burned or not.

_**In Qarth…**_

__Olene's now dead opponent dropped to the floor as blood poured from the tiny hole in his throat. The Braavosi woman turned her attention to another as he tried to attack her. She deftly swept his legs out from under him before engaging a third man. He brought his sword down in an overhead chop, which she easily dodged. Stepping past him, Olene piercing his side with her rapier. She then quickly spun in a circle and stabbed him through the back. As his body collapsed onto the floor, she stabbed the man she had tripped earlier in the throat, almost as an afterthought. Taking the time to glance at the fresh corpses of the dozen or so men she had just killed, the Braavosi woman quietly said "Not today" as she slid her rapier back into her belt.

"You are amazing" Princess Daenerys said from behind. Turning to look at her charge, Olene saw the silver-haired girl holding onto two of her Dragons while the black one was perched on her shoulder. She had descended into the House of the Undying, the home of the Warlocks, and had returned with her children and news of Pyat Pree's death.

Bowing her head, Olene replied "I was trained in the Water Dance by Syrio Forel, the First Sword to the Sealord of Braavos". With that, the Braavosi accompanied the Princess and her Khalasar as they made their way through the estate of Xaro Xhoan Daxos. Her uneasiness around the man had proven true when he had revealed his true colours and named himself the "King of Qarth". Now that the Princess had her Dragons back, Xaro's reckoning was at hand. Once they walked into his room, they could see that he was asleep with a woman beside him. Kovarro plucked the man's medallion from his neck with his Arakh, causing the large man to bolt upright. The woman sleeping next to him was revealed to be none other than Doreah, the Princess' own handmaiden.

"Come" the Princess said as she and the others walked back the way they had come. Xaro started to angrily get out of bed, but Ser Jorah drew his sword, dissuading the man from any rash course of action. They all made their way underground, to a large, circular door that served as the entrance to Xaro's vault. Kovarro placed the medallion in the centre of the door, turning it until it was unlocked. He and Ser Jorah then pulled the door open, revealing that the vault was completely empty. The Princess took a step inside, holding a torch aloft. Turning to look at the large man, she said "Thank you, Xaro Xhoan Daxos. Thank you for teaching me this lesson". Nodding to her Bloodriders, she and the others watched as Xaro and Doreah were placed inside the vault. They both pleaded for their lives, begging the person whom they both had betrayed as the vault door was closed, sealing them inside forever.

Olene could see that the Dragon was done bowing and scraping to others; she would take charge of her own destiny, and she would claim the Iron Throne with her own iron will.

_**To the North; at the Fist of the First Men…**_

__Derryk grunted as he finally placed the last of the barrels of pitch next to the others. He gazed out at the vast, desolate landscape, marveling at how such a place could even exist. "Care for a little sparring?" a gruff voice asked from nearby. Derryk turned to see Rolfe with his arms crossed.

"Sure" the black-haired young man replied, following the older man for a few paces before facing each other in a blank patch of snow, which seemed to describe almost everything north of the Wall. Drawing his warhammer, Derryk watched as Rolfe drew his sword. He cracked his neck before launching himself into an attack. "Do you think Jon Snow and the Halfhand will come back soon?" he asked as he dodged a swing of his opponent's sword.

"I don't know" Rolfe replied. "They could end up dead or worse; only time will tell".

"But Qhorin Halfhand's the greatest Ranger that ever lived" Derryk countered as he blocked Rolfe's sword with the haft of his warhammer.

"One of em, at any rate" the older man said as he stepped back a few paces. "I'd give them decent chances with the Halfhand, but even great Rangers…"

He suddenly stopped, and Derryk furrowed his brow. "What is it?" he asked. The other man's face was pale, as if he had seen a ghost from a children's story. Turning around, the black-haired young man felt his jaw drop as he saw a horde slowly making its way toward them from the distance. At first, he thought them to be Wildlings, but then he heard an ear-piercing scream that chilled the very marrow in his bones.

He turned back to Rolfe, and the bearded man simply said "The horn".

Derryk nodded, swallowing his fear as he ran to the horn that the Lord Commander had had placed near the edge of the Fist. Taking a deep breath, Derryk blew the horn, hearing it carrying across the nearby landscape. Taking another breath, he blew it a second time. The horde was still approaching, and a snowy cloud seemed to be following it. With a final deep breath, Derryk blew the horn a third time, alerting his brothers: the White Walkers had returned.

**Thus ends Part 2. As I said when I started this portion of the story, it's much shorter than the others. There wasn't all that much to do during Season 2 of the show. Not to worry! Later today, I'll start posting for Part 3, and that's when things start to get REALLY interesting. I'm currently on an extended break from classes, so I'll start posting a little more frequently. Valar Morghulis! **


	31. Chapter 31 - Rising Dragons

**So, here is the beginning of Part 3, which corresponds to Season 3 of the show; that's when things really get interesting. Valar Dohaeris!**

_News eventually reached Lord Drakon of the Sacking of Winterfell. None knew whether Kirth had survived or not, and he was not found for some time. _

_ News also reached him of Stannis' defeat at the Battle of Blackwater Bay. He was understandably angry, and he had fresh cause for concern: the Lannisters' new alliance with House Tyrell gave them a significant advantage over all the other factions fighting in what came to be known as the War of Five Kings. Lord Drakon's enemies now had access to seemingly limitless food supplies and troops from the Reach, a region which he had called home for a time. _

_ Ser Hugo's appointment as Lord Commander of the City Watch was certainly unexpected, but Lord Drakon quickly realized that having someone that highly-placed in King's Landing was invaluable in the long run. _

_ As for the Dragons, Lord Drakon and the members of his household could easily see their incredible growth. Throughout the year after he had hatched them, they were around the size of modest-sized pups, but as the 300__th__ year after Aegon's Landing came to pass, they were both slightly larger than even full-grown hunting hounds. _

_**One year ago; at the Fist of the First Men…**_

__Derryk nocked an arrow along with most of his brothers. "Aim!" the Lord Commander called, and the black-haired young man drew his bowstring, aiming in the general direction of the oncoming horde. "Fire!" Lord Commander Mormont ordered, and Derryk and the others loosed their arrows. He watched as they flew through the air, striking several of their marks, but it was as if they were unaffected.

"We're all gonna die!" one of the brothers shouted.

"Not today, we aren't!" the Lord Commander angrily replied. "We need to use fire arrows!"

Derryk turned around, along with several others, and ran toward the barrels of pitch that they had brought with them. Just as he opened a barrel, and was about to dip his arrows in the black substance when a large number of walking, blue-eyed corpses emerged from the raging snow cloud in front of them. Growling in frustration, Derryk threw his bow and arrows onto the snow, opting to draw his warhammer instead. Tightly gripping the mighty weapon, he gritted his teeth as he stared at the shambling corpses. As his brothers shot at them with flaming arrows, Derryk was suddenly seized by inspiration, and proceeded to dip the head of his warhammer into the pitch. Drawing it out, he used a flaming arrow to light the square-shaped head of his weapon. He did it just in time, for one of the corpses tried to grab him. The black-haired young man used the head of his warhammer to push the corpse away before he slammed it into its side, throwing it onto the ground and setting it on fire. One of his brothers started screaming as a small group of corpses tore him to pieces.

"Duncan!" Derryk shouted, watching helplessly as his brother died. Shouting at the top of his lungs, he brought his weapon down on one of the corpses, crushing its head and lighting it on fire. He then swung it backwards, piercing the skull of another corpse to his right with the spike. As the corpse collapsed onto the ground, Derryk looked around, watching as his brothers were overwhelmed by an endless tide of death.

Knowing that he had to escape, to warn Castle Black, Derryk turned around and ran, wanting to get as far away from the Fist as he could.

_**A few hours later…**_

__Rolfe gazed out at the desolate landscape as he and the other survivors from the battle trudged forward. Out of the 300 that Lord Commander Mormont had taken with him on the Great Ranging, only about fifty or so were still alive, not counting any potential survivors who were separated during the battle. The bearded man grumbled as he continued walking, the sting of defeat still fresh. After a few minutes, he heard some kind of commotion coming from the rear. Turning around, he saw Edd and Grenn, two of the younger Rangers, tried to console a weeping Samwell Tarly. The fat little boy meant well, but he wouldn't last long. The Lord Commander then walked up to him, forbidding him to die out in the cold wasteland.

Two of the younger brothers, standing nearby, chuckled derisively. "The little piggy is crying" the one said as the other laughed.

Stepping up behind them, Rolfe roughly grabbed both of them by the scruff of their cloaks. "One more word from either of you, and I'll break your necks". The two younger men took the threat to heart, closing their mouths. Rolfe then found himself walking beside the Lord Commander. "Derryk's gone" he told the old bear. "I lost him after the battle started".

The elder Mormont shook his head. "I'd give up half of this grumbling lot to get him back. Him and Jon Snow".

"I didn't train with him, but he seemed like he'd be a good Commander someday".

The Lord Commander nodded. "Someday".

_**To the east; in the Gulf of Grief…**_

__Olene watched as Princess Daenerys spoke with Ser Jorah. As she did so, one of her Dragons, the largest of the three, caught and ate a fish before landing in front of her. The silver-haired girl petted the creature as she spoke with her advisor. The Dragon flew off, and a few minutes later, the Princess walked up to Olene. "Why do you follow me, Olene?" she asked, crossing her arms.

The Braavosi woman took a deep breath before replying "Originally, I was sent to serve you on the orders of Lord Blackfyre".

"And now?" the Princess asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Now, I serve you because I swore an oath to protect you until my last dying breath. You are strong; you are kind, you are determined, you have a good claim, and most importantly, your people love you". Eventually, they and the Khalasar finally arrived in Astapor, one of the chief cities in Slaver's Bay. It was infamous for its main import: the Unsullied, eunuch warriors who were trained from birth to become some of the greatest soldiers in the world, soldiers that obeyed every order without question. Olene was perfectly aware of the Princess' stance on slavery, and she also knew of the Targaryen's qualms about possibly purchasing a slave army.

"Braavosi" Kovarro called as he walked toward her on the dock. "The Khaleesi would know more about the Masters of this city".

Nodding, Olene replied in Dothraki "Between the two of us, we should be able to learn a great deal". She then accompanied the Bloodrider into the city of Astapor, a place where the masters ruled absolute and a Dragon would be searching for a way to reclaim the Seven Kingdoms.

_**At Dragon's Rest…**_

__Drakon held his sword up, blocking the blades of his twin sons. The sun was shining down on them, and the muscular man could feel the sweat running down his bare torso; he and the twins had been sparring all morning, and they had gotten so hot that they had elected to fight bare-chested. Holding his sword with one hand, he easily shoved his sons' swords back, causing them to stagger back a few steps. "Never try to match your strength against an opponent that is stronger than you" Drakon instructed. "When the man you're fighting is bigger than you, you have to rely on speed and agility in order to get around him". The twin boys, both in their fourteenth year, were shaping up to be fine swordsmen. Because they had been practicing almost constantly for two years now, they were starting to develop some muscles, and their skill with swords was increasing.

The twins, having recovered from their failed attack, came at him again. Edric made several attacks with his sword, occupying Drakon while Edwyn ran around to his back. The young man leaped onto his father's back, wrapping his arms around his chest as Edric launched himself toward the bulky man. Drakon laughed as he slid back a few paces. He then used his colossal strength to shove Edric back before flipping Edwyn off of his back and onto the ground. He soon had both boys in an inescapable headlock, and they soon yielded. Kissing both of their heads, he patted them on their shoulders before standing up. "Well done" he said, helping them both to stand.

"We still lost" Edwyn complained.

"That doesn't detract from the progress you showed" Drakon replied. "Don't be too hard on yourselves; no one can beat me". Placing a hand on both boys' shoulders, he said "Remember, assess your opponent's strengths and find their weaknesses. If you're fighting a larger opponent, like me, then use speed and agility. If you're fighting someone who's quicker than you, then wait for them to come to you and don't tire yourself out trying to attack a moving target". The twins nodded just as a cry came from above. Looking up, Drakon and his sons could see two fast-moving shapes shooting down toward them. The light of the sun reflected off them, shining brilliantly and forcing Drakon to look away.

The two Dragons started flapping their golden wings as they approached the ground, eventually landing beside Drakon. The muscular man stroked their heads, eliciting pleased clicking purrs. Both Dragons had grown, and they were now the size of full-grown hunting hounds. Rhaegon's silver scales gleamed in the sunlight, giving him an aura of majesty, as did Maelion's bronze scales. Their mouths were lined with small, needle-sharp teeth, and a line of sharp horns had started to develop along the back of their skulls. Along their backbones and their necks ran a series of horny spines with crimson webbing in between, forming frills that the creatures raised or flared, depending on their emotional state. Their tails had also grown, and constituted half of their overall length. Drakon crouched down, and smiled as Rhaegon and Maelion nuzzled their heads against him.


	32. Chapter 32 - Last Stand

_**In King's Landing…**_

__Ser Hugo watched with amazement as Margaery Tyrell stepped out of her litter and, against the protests of her handmaidens, walked through a pool of mud into an orphanage. The Tyrell guards, whom he had been aiding in escorting Lady Margaery and King Joffrey through the city, didn't look at all surprised. "What does she think she's doing?" he asked them.

The guards gave him an odd look. "Showing kindness to her future people, of course" one of them said. "Is that such an odd thing here?"

Ser Hugo nodded. Turning toward the orphanage, he said "The people will love her. She'll make a good queen". Past the orphanage, the Knight could see the boy King peering through the window of his litter, no doubt confused as to his betrothed's actions. Soon enough, Lady Margaery emerged, and Ser Hugo helped her get back into her litter. A few hours later, he found himself in the gardens of the Red Keep, walking toward the Queen Regent. "Your Grace" he said respectfully, bowing to the Lannister woman.

"You were one of the ones escorting my son and Lady Margaery through the city, yes?"

Ser Hugo nodded. "I was, Your Grace. I offered to escort her and your son".

"And did she do anything out of place?" the blonde woman asked.

Crossing his hands behind his back, the Knight sighed and told her what she would have found out anyway. "Lady Margaery did stop at an orphanage in Flea Bottom".

The Queen Regent turned to him, the surprise evident on her face. "What was she doing?"

"She spoke to the orphans and had toys handed out to them. Then she left".

The woman turned to look at the gardens. "What do you think of our Queen-to-be, Ser Hugo?"

He shrugged marginally. "The people love her, and by all appearances, she has a calming influence on the King".

The Queen Regent scowled as she gazed out at the gardens. "I rather she didn't" she said, almost too quietly to be heard. Taking her silence as a dismissal, Ser Hugo bowed before walking away, wary of what the vicious Lannister might do if she felt thoroughly threatened by the lovely rose.

_**In Astapor…**_

__Olene watched as Good Master Kraznys approached one of the Unsullied that were standing at attention. The Princess was currently treating with the vile man in order to possibly acquire an army to enforce her claim to the Seven Kingdoms. Master Kraznys took the Unsullied's dagger, slicing off the man's nipple with it.

"These are not men" Ser Jorah muttered.

"No", Olene agreed, "but the Princess will need them if she wants to reclaim her birthright". With the demonstration over, the Braavosi woman and Ser Jorah walked alongside the silver-haired girl as she made her way along the docks.

"8 000 dead babies" she said, lamenting that part of the Unsullied training regimen.

"The Unsullied are a means to an end" Ser Jorah replied.

"Once I own them, these men—"

"They're not men. Not anymore" the Knight countered.

"Once I own an army of slaves, what will I be?" the Princess asked.

"Do you think these slaves will have better lives serving Kraznys and men like him or serving you?" They noticed a little girl playing with a ball before walking down a few steps. "You'll be fair to them. You won't mutilate them to make a point. You won't order them to murder babies. You'll see they're properly fed and sheltered. A great injustice has been done to them. Closing your eyes will not undo it". The little girl they had been watching rolled her ball over to the Princess, who picked it up. Before she could do anything, Olene suddenly found herself being shoved onto the ground. Looking up, she saw a man in a black cloak wrestling with Ser Jorah as the Princess was on the ground with a hissing creature in front of her.

Olene knew that it was a Manticore, one of the most poisonous creatures in the world. The Braavosi woman stood and drew her rapier as quickly as she could, but the Manticore started rushing toward the Princess before she could do anything. Just as it would have stung her, the cloaked man stabbed the green creature with a dagger. Noticing movement out of the corner of her eye, Olene looked up and saw the little girl hissing, and she had the same blue-tinted lips that Pyat Pree had had in Qarth.

The cloaked man ran at her with his dagger in hand, but the girl jumped off the dock and disappeared. "The Warlocks" the Princess said, realizing that the girl was an assassin. Turning to the cloaked man, she said "I owe you my life, Ser".

"The honour is mine, my Queen" the man replied, pulling back his hood.

Ser Jorah seemed to recognize him, and after the Princess asked him, he said "I know him, as one of the greatest fighters the Seven Kingdoms has ever seen and as the Lord Commander of Robert Baratheon's Kingsguard".

"King Robert is dead. I have been searching for you, Daenerys Stormborn, to ask your forgiveness. I was sworn to protect your family. I failed them". The man then got down on one knee. "I am Barristan Selmy, Kingsguard to your father. Allow me to join your Queensguard and I will not fail you again".

_**North of the Wall…**_

__Derryk finally stopped running, clutching a tree as he struggled to breathe after so much exertion. He had reached the Haunted Forest some time ago, but he couldn't know if he was anywhere near Castle Black or not, or even if he was going in the right direction. It didn't matter; after everything he had seen, he had to get away.

Gathering his strength, he started walking through the darkened forest, doing his best to see in the black of night. Suddenly, he noticed some movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning toward it, he saw that it had blue eyes, and undulating tongues of frost seemed to waft from its skin. Derryk drew his warhammer, shouting "Come and get me, you fucking ghoul!"

The White Walker slowly and deliberately stepped toward him, and as it approached, Derryk saw that its pale skin was stretched across its body, making it even more corpse-like than the horde that had attacked him and his brothers at the Fist of the First Men. Not wanting to simply wait for his death, the black-haired young man ran toward the creature, swinging his warhammer at it. The square-shaped head of the weapon impacted the Walker's side, throwing it against a nearby tree. It appeared to be genuinely surprised, letting loose a bone-chilling shriek. Derryk swung his warhammer again, only to have the Walker grab the weapon by the haft. The warhammer instantly froze, before exploding into a thousand, icy fragments. Derryk's opponent then struck him across the face, throwing him through the air for at least a dozen paces before he came crashing down onto the snow. Groaning from the force of the impact, Derryk did the only thing he could in that instant and started crawling across the snow, hearing the slow, deliberate footsteps coming at him. Rolling onto his back, he saw the White Walker drawing a knife that looked as if it had been made from ice. Drawing a knife of his own, Derryk said "Burn in the Seventh Hell!" before spitting at the creature. He then took the knife and slit his own throat. As his hand fell down beside him, and he felt the life flowing out of him, he thought of Jayne, and what might have been.


	33. Chapter 33 - A Convert of Light

_**At Dragon's Rest…**_

__"Our militia continues to grow, my lord" Ser Samwell reported in his deep voice. Ever since Ser Hugo had unexpectedly became Lord Commander of the City Watch, the strong, stocky Knight had replaced him as Captain of the Guard, hence his presence at the Council table. "Robb Stark and his army have garrisoned at Harrenhal" the Knight continued. "The heavy fighting in the Riverlands has stopped, for now, but refugees are still coming into our lands. Even with the dramatic growth and prosperity the hold has experienced, we're almost at the point where we cannot sustain any more".

"Financially" Simon Groat said, drinking from his wineglass, "we're doing quite well. But I have to agree with Ser Samwell's assessment; even if our finances are holding for now, they can't sustain too many more".

Drakon nodded, understanding the implications. Ever since he had ordered the militia's creation over a year ago, it had grown dramatically, its numbers swelling as a result of the fighting in the Riverlands. Under the direction and training of Drakon's knights, it had become a well-trained fighting force that was just as effective as any other. Behind him, Rhaegon and Maelion were curled up next to the fire. "We need to curb the militia's numbers" he said. "Fortunately, we have a place where we can send some of them".

"Where would that be, my lord?" Maester Lucas asked.

"We'll send them to King's Landing" the muscular man replied. "Starting tonight, we'll send small groups of men from the militia to King's Landing, where they will join the City Watch". Turning to Rona Grey, he said "Send word to Ser Hugo, privately, and let him know about this latest development. Tell him to take the recruits and fill the City Watch with men he completely trusts; any man whose loyalties are suspect is to be eliminated, quietly".

The grey-clad woman bowed her head. "Of course, my lord".

"Now, what other news is there?"

"Stannis Baratheon licks his wounds at Dragonstone" Maester Lucas reported. "He lost the vast majority of his army in the Battle of Blackwater Bay, and it would appear that he is out of the war for now". The black-haired Maester paused, glancing at Septa Eleanor and Gammer Wilde before saying "Word out of Dragonstone is that his Red Priestess burns people alive daily, calling them servants of evil".

The two religious advisors said silent prayers in response. "For now, the priestess is Stannis' problem" Drakon replied as Rhaegon's silver head appeared beside him. He gently stroked the Dragon's head, turning to Rona and asking "Is there any news of the item?"

The Spymaster nodded. "There is. I have it on good authority that the item you asked for is, indeed, in Westeros, in the hands of someone calling themselves The Wyvern".

"Excellent" Drakon replied with obvious satisfaction.

"I've taken the liberty of contacting The Wyvern" Rona continued. "They have agreed to meet you. The odd thing is that they wish to meet at The Whispers".

Drakon frowned. The Whispers was the former seat of House Crabb, and had been abandoned for centuries. "Why do they want to meet there?" he asked.

Rona shrugged. "I do not know, my lord. However, it is as secret a place as I can think of".

"Send word to this Wyvern" Drakon said, scratching his silver beard. "Tell him, or her, that I will meet them at the Whispers tomorrow".

"There is a small cause for concern, my lord" Ser Samwell spoke up. "A few of our Smallfolk have been attacked by a wolf".

"Oh really?" Simon asked sardonically. "A wolf, you say? How shocking, to learn that such great beasts roam the forests near here".

Ser Samwell gave the bald bailiff a steely glare. "They say that the wolf was the size of a pony".

Drakon arched his eyebrows. Turning to Rona, he said "That sounds like a Direwolf to me".

"There are no Direwolves south of the Wall" Simon said, waving it off.

"Not necessarily" Rona said, gazing at the fire in thought. "Two years ago, when Lord Stark and his daughters accompanied King… the Usurper back to King's Landing, there was an incident involving one of the Stark girls and Joffrey".

Interlocking his fingers, Drakon nodded. "I remember that. Sansa's Direwolf was executed by Lord Stark on the orders of the King…"

"Because Arya Stark's wolf disappeared into the forest" Rona finished.

Simon set his wineglass down on the table. "Are we actually saying that a Direwolf somehow made its way from the Trident into the Crownlands? Wouldn't someone have hunted it down by now?"

"By now, it would be the size of a pony" Maester Lucas added. "I don't know that many hunters who would be able to get the drop on such an animal".

"Indeed" Drakon agreed. "Ser Samwell, take Cat and a few men and deal with this Direwolf; we can't have a dangerous predator stalking our livestock and Smallfolk". Cat was Drakon's finest hunter, and if anyone could help Ser Samwell take down a Direwolf, then it was her. "We'll re-convene tomorrow". The advisors stood and bowed before leaving, with the exception of Simon Groat. "What is it, Simon?"

The bald man glanced back at the door before stepping toward Drakon, stopping when Rhaegon and Maelion growled at him; the Dragons had never cared for Simon, and they always growled threateningly whenever he approached. "There's an urgent matter to discuss, my lord" he said, glancing at the Dragons. "I believe Alvyn may be betraying you".

Drakon crossed his arms as he stared directly into the other man's eyes. "That is a very serious accusation" he said warningly. "Do you have proof?"

"I see him leaving the keep every night, my lord" Simon replied. "Sometimes, he doesn't return until dawn".

"And why would Alvyn betray me?"

The bald man jingled the coins in his purse. "All men have their price, my lord" he said, sounding as if he truly believed that. "Even our dear 'honest Alvyn'".

Later that evening, Drakon sat in the Lord's chair as Ser Hugo and Rona entered the Great Hall, followed by two guards escorting a manacled Alvyn. The group reached the foot of the steps and bowed. "My lord", Rona said, gesturing to the stuttering merchant, "we found Alvyn amongst a group of R'hllor worshippers, saying prayers to this 'Lord of Light'".

"It's not like you to keep secrets, Alvyn" Drakon said. "Why did you keep this from me?"

The old man looked down at the floor in shame. "The S-Seven are worshipped in almost a-all of W-Westeros, my lord. I did not w-wish to bring s-shame on your House".

Drakon glanced at Ser Hugo and Rona. Sighing, he asked "Why worship this 'Lord of Light'? Why not worship the gods of your fathers?"

"A recent d-decision, my lord" Alvyn replied. "My son, Elyas, died of a wasting disease not three months ago. I f-found no comfort in neither t-the Godswood nor the S-Sept".

"So you weren't betraying me?" Drakon asked.

"N-No, my lord! They are only prayers, and n-nothing more. I pray f-for your good f-fortune as well".

Drakon knew that the old man spoke the truth; Alvyn was the most honest man he knew, and the merchant wasn't one to engage in the Game of Thrones. "I do not put much stock in the gods, as you know. However, I realize that most people don't believe as I do. You are forgiven, Alvyn".

The old man breathed a sigh of relief as the guards unchained him. "Thank you, my lord" Alvyn said as he rubbed his wrists. He was then escorted out of the Great Hall, leaving Drakon with Ser Hugo and Rona.

"My lord, I think an opportunity has just been presented to us" the grey-clad Spymaster said, turning to face him.

"I was thinking the same thing" the muscular man said, nodding in agreement.

"Stannis Baratheon is a great believer in the Lord of Light. He may welcome a fellow believer like Alvyn".

"We could certainly use a set of eyes and ears among Stannis' household" Drakon said, standing up. "Rona, you will send Alvyn to Dragonstone tonight. Tell him to present himself to Stannis as a secret display of loyalty, and impress upon our honest merchant the need for him to be careful at all times around the Baratheon man and his Red Priestess".

Rona and Ser Hugo bowed, proceeding to walk out of the Great Hall.


	34. Chapter 34 - The Ties That Bind

_**At the Whispers; in Crackclaw Point…**_

__Drakon and his men stopped their horses when they finally reached the Whispers. The castle had been abandoned for centuries; much of the stone was covered in moss and vines, while some of the top portions had crumbled away after centuries of neglect. It was generally believed to be haunted by most, but Drakon knew that the legends owed their existence to the unsettling nature of the place, and the uniquely-formed cliffs. A cry came from above, and the last Blackfyre looked up to see Rhaegon and Maelion flying overhead. Turning to the twenty guards that had accompanied him, he said "Follow me". He then walked through what once contained the main gate of the castle, his men following close behind. Its interior was much the same as the exterior; covered with vines and greenery, with a general aura of terror about it. Glancing back at his men, he could see some of them shaking. They soon entered what must have once been the main hall, a large space that was bathed in the light of the sun, as the section of roof covering it was completely gone.

"When Dragons stirred in Old Valyria…" a melodious voice called from somewhere nearby, in High Valyrian no less. Someone then emerged from the far end of the large space, and Drakon and his guards turned to regard them. Whomever it was wore a brilliant silver cloak with the hood drawn, but it was clearly a woman's body underneath.

"The world soon learned to tremble" Drakon finished in High Valyrian. The passage came from a centuries-old manuscript concerned with the rise to power of the Dragonlords of Old Valyria. It had been one of his favourites during his upbringing in the Red Keep.

"Very good" the woman replied in the common tongue, drawing back her hood. Drakon was struck by the fact that the woman standing before him was one of the most beautiful he had ever seen. She had bright violet eyes, a heart-shaped face, silver hair that ran down to the small of her back, and ruby lips that were curled into a smirk. "Your accent is flawless".

"As is yours" Drakon replied. "You are the Wyvern?"

"I am" the silver-haired woman said. "And I have what you were seeking".

Drakon turned to his guards. "Leave us", he commanded, "but stay close". The twenty men proceeded to file out of the ruined main hall.

"It took me a long time to track you down, you know" the beautiful stranger commented.

"What do you mean?" Drakon asked, slightly confused. "I was the one who reached out to you".

The woman chuckled, a not-unpleasant sound. "I wasn't referring to this deal. It took me the better part of twenty years to find out who you really are".

"And who would that be?"

"Drakon Blackfyre, of course" she replied with obvious satisfaction.

Drakon's hand fell to the hilt of his sword, glancing around the large, open space and readying himself for a betrayal.

"I'm not interested in killing you" the silver-haired woman assured him, placing her hands on her shapely hips. "Quite the opposite, in fact".

Maintaining the grip on his sword, Drakon slowly stepped toward the mysterious woman. "What do you want? And before you answer, know that I can kill you before you could even…"

"I'm your sister".

The comment made Drakon stop in his tracks. It was the last thing he expected to hear from this woman, and he felt as if the breath had been driven out of him. "My sister?" he asked incredulously. "How can that be?"

"You are the son of Maelys I" the woman stated matter-of-factly. "I am his daughter".

"But I have no siblings" Drakon said. "I was my mother's only child, and she died when I could barely walk".

"We share the same father, but not the same mother. My name is Visenya Blackfyre. She didn't tell you? No, I expect not; she did seem rather loyal. I must say, you found yourself quite the capable servant".

"Who are you talking about?"

"Grey", she replied, "the woman you sent to King's Landing to root out a possible spy".

Drakon opened his mouth in surprise. "You're the spy? Rona told me that she had killed you".

Visenya smirked. "Like I said, she seemed loyal. Perhaps she didn't want the blood of your kin on her hands".

Drakon gripped the handle of his sword a little tighter. "You were working against my House".

"No, I wasn't. I simply wanted to see how you would respond to a threat once I learned that you were posing as Lord Sebastion Stormheart".

The muscular man took a step back, appraising the woman before him; she certainly had all the classic Valyrian features of silver hair and violet eyes, but the Targaryens and Blackfyres weren't the only families that were descended from Old Valyria. "How do I know you're telling the truth?" he asked at last.

"In time" Visenya said. "But first, I have a gift. A gesture of good faith". She then reached into her silver cloak and produced a horn that looked to be the length of his arm. It was black in colour, with pale red glyphs of High Valyrian inscribed across its surface, and the mouth was shaped in the likeness of an open Dragon's maw. Drakon took the horn in his hands, his lips forming into a satisfied smile. In Old Valyria, the Dragonlords, those members of the most powerful houses that commanded and rode Dragons, had many methods for controlling the world's mightiest beasts; the Dragon Horns were one such method. So little knowledge about Dragon taming survived the Doom of Valyria, but Drakon had encountered several different theories and methods in the countless number of books he had read on the subject of Dragons.

He had known for some time that his Dragons would be very, very large in a relatively short amount of time, so the need to properly train and tame them while they were still of a manageable size was paramount. That was why he had had Rona seek out an item such as this. He glanced at Visenya, who indicated that he should use the ancient item. Taking a deep breath, he blew a mighty bellow which rang across the ruined keep. Drakon could see that the glyphs on the horn glowed a bright red, and he heard a series of cries coming from the sky. Both he and Visenya looked up and saw bright silver and bronze shapes shooting toward them. At the same time, the guards came rushing in, but Drakon held up a hand and said "It's all right! Stay back!" Rhaegon and Maelion flapped their wings when they approached the ground, touching down beside Drakon. They gazed curiously at him and the horn, mewing at the thing that had summoned them. The muscular man turned to regard Visenya; her mouth was agape as she gazed at the Dragons with what could only be described as complete and utter awe.

As she got down on one knee, she said in High Valyrian "I never thought I would see Dragons in the world". She then tentatively reached out a hand toward Maelion, who lightly sniffed it before gently pushing his head against her palm. Visenya laughed, looking up at Drakon.

"He likes you" the muscular man said in the common tongue. "Now, you and I need to have a long conversation".

_**At Dragonstone…**_

__Alvyn stepped onto the shores of Dragonstone, the ancestral seat of House Targaryen and current seat of Stannis Baratheon, the so-called 'King in the Narrow Sea'. Taking a rag from one of his pockets, the old merchant wiped his brow as he started to sweat. It was then that he noticed the woman approaching him, a woman clothed in red, with long, crimson hair and a beautiful face. Alvyn bowed to her, saying "My l-lady. It i-is a p-pleasure to meet y-you".

The woman, no doubt the Red Priest Melisandre, smiled and said "The pleasure is mine, dear Alvyn".

The old man glanced up at her, a look of surprise on his face.

"The Lord of Light told me of your coming" the redheaded woman explained.

"O-Of course" Alvyn replied. "I w-wish to serve the Lord of L-Light, my lady".

Melisandre smiled once more, cupping Alvyn's bearded cheek. "And you shall, my friend. I will make certain of it".

_**Among the Northern army…**_

__Kirth sat down, sighing in deep satisfaction. His time in Winterfell during the Ironborn occupation was one of the least pleasant experiences the minstrel had had in recent memory. Luckily, he had managed to find his way out after a force of Northerners had started to lay siege to the ancestral Stark seat. After that, he had ridden south on a stolen horse as far as he could manage. As luck would have it, he encountered the Northern army, which was on its way to Riverrun. Kirth had learned from some of the other soldiers that they were making their way there for the funeral of the now late Lord Hoster Tully, Lord of Riverrun and Robb Stark's grandfather.

Now, the minstrel found himself sitting on an extremely uncomfortable stone next to a woman weaving a prayer wheel. As he pulled out his lyre, he took another look at her, and realized belatedly that he was sitting next to none other than Lady Catelyn Stark, Robb's mother. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he started singing a tune to take his mind off his recent troubles.

"Must you keep playing that?" the older woman suddenly snapped.

Kirth stammered for a moment, then bowed his head and said "Forgive me, Lady Stark. I did not mean to offend".

The woman stared at a stone wall, tears starting to run down her face. "That song was my Rickon's favourite. And now I may never see him again". She started crying, then stymied whatever tears were left and wiped off her cheeks.

"I am truly sorry for your loss, my lady" Kirth said in as respectful a tone as he could manage. Looking out at the distance, at Robb Stark's army, he said "My cousin recently lost his wife and unborn children. I… understand what you must be going through".

Lady Stark did not reply, and continued to work on her prayer wheel. Kirth stood and walked away, leaving her to her grief. It had been over a year since he had gotten word of Jocelyn's death, but the memory was still a painful one. She may have been his cousin's wife, but the minstrel had always loved her, from the first moment he had set eyes on her. Now she was gone, and the world suddenly seemed so much darker without her in it.


	35. Chapter 35 - Not the Last

_**At the Whispers…**_

__Drakon walked alongside Visenya as they and the Dragons aimlessly made their way through the Whispers, listening to her story. The last Blackfyre was slowly coming to realize that he was, in fact, not the last. Her story made more and more sense as it went on: Drakon's father, Maelys I, had bedded a noblewoman from Lys who had Valyrian blood. She was with child when Maelys had departed to start his rebellion against the Iron Throne, and Drakon figured that Visenya was only a few months older than him.

"Did your mother ever tell you about him?" he asked.

Visenya wiped a strand of silver hair out of her eye and replied "She said that he was the most driven man she had ever met. His… deformity didn't make him the most handsome man she had ever seen, but she didn't care about that. She fell in love with him not because of his looks, but because of his inner fire and determination".

Drakon smiled mournfully. "I wish I had known him".

"Me too" Visenya said, placing a hand on his back.

"I never knew my mother, either. I have vague memories of her teaching me how to walk and playing with me, but I never had the chance to know what it was like to have her raise me". They then found themselves outside, on the edge of the cliffs that the castle straddled. Drakon crouched down beside Rhaegon and Maelion and whispered "_Sovetis_". They then launched themselves from the cliff, proceeding to take to the sky.

"They are the most amazing things I have ever seen" Visenya commented as she sat down on a nearby rock. A gentle breeze was caressing the two of them, and it made her silver hair dance around her perfect face.

Drakon stood in front of his half-sister, gazing out at the Blackwater that lay before them. "They are my children" he said, crossing his arms. "I've cared for them, fed them, taught them restraint; it's only a matter of time before they become too large for me to properly train them".

"And that is why you searched for the horn" Visenya replied.

Turning to look at her, Drakon asked "How did you find me?"

The other woman stood, walking up to him and taking his arm. Drakon briefly looked down at her immaculate hands; Jocelyn had been the only one to take his arm like that, and the reminder felt like a knife through the heart. He forced the feelings of anger and loss down as much as he was able as Visenya said "I saw your meeting with Barristan Selmy in King's Landing, before Ned Stark lost his head. After that, I made it my business to learn everything I could about you. After a few weeks, I found that I wasn't the only one; someone was making discreet inquiries about you in the capital over a year ago".

Drakon's jaw clenched tight with quiet rage. "They were working for Lady Buckwell, a noblewoman who I traded with quite frequently. I killed the man she loved a few years after the Usurper took power, and she hunted me down. She slaughtered twelve of my guards and four of my knights trying to kill me. I threw her body onto the pyre she had placed the Dragon eggs on, and she burned alive, giving life to Rhaegon and Maelion. Later, I learned that she had poisoned my wife, killing her and the unborn twins she had been carrying". As he recounted the tale, Drakon looked down at his left hand, which still bore a scar across the palm from when he had pressed his hand against a sword in an effort to kill one of Lady Buckwell's guards.

Beside him, he could see Visenya looking at him with a mournful expression. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but she turned to look at the flying Dragons off in the distance. Eventually, she looked back at him and said "It is those who are closest to us that suffer the most" in High Valyrian.

Drakon nodded, then turned to look at her. He gazed into her violet eyes, and without even thinking, he leaned in and gently kissed her ruby lips. It lasted for what felt like an eternity, and Drakon eventually pulled away from it, backing up a few steps. He turned around, breathing heavily as he said "I… have to send word to my children. They… have to know that… I won't be there for some time". He ran a hand through his silver hair, then walked off into the keep, pointedly not looking at his half-sister.

_**At Dragon's Rest…**_

__Jayne read the letter again, taking enough time to read each individual word very carefully. When she finished, she knew that there was no mistake; her father was staying at the Whispers for the time being, and he had made her and the twins the acting Lady and Lords of Dragon's Rest. Letting her hands drop to her sides, Jayne said "There's no mistake; father wants us to rule the hold in his stead".

Edric ran a hand through his close-cut black hair, while Edwyn paced back and forth. "Did he say anything else?" Edric asked.

Jayne looked at the letter. "He wants to stay at the Whispers and train Rhaegon and Maelion before they're too large".

Edwyn scoffed. "And he needs to stay at an abandoned keep to do that?"

Jayne placed a hand on her brother's shoulder, stopping his nervous pacing. "It's the best place for him to do that. There's too many people here, and father can't risk anyone learning about the Dragons before he's ready".

"Ready to launch a crusade against the rest of the country?" Edric asked sardonically.

Jayne gave him a disapproving look as she wiped a strand of black hair behind her ear. "Right now, we need to focus our attention on our lands. Let's make father proud". The twins glanced at one another before nodding their assent. With that, Jayne turned to Rona Grey and said "We're ready".

The older woman smiled at them. "You'll do fine" she said comfortingly. Rona had been a close family friend all their lives; she had been their mother's oldest friend, and Jayne and the twins had always enjoyed hearing her stories as children. Now, the grey-clad woman opened the doors of the Council chamber and led the Blackfyre children into the lit space. The gathered advisors turned to look at them before standing and bowing.

Jayne felt their eyes on her, and she knew that the twins were feeling the same level of apprehension; she was just better at concealing it. Rona sat down at her seat, and a servant entered with a third seat, which she placed next to the other two at the head of the table. Once the woman left, Jayne sat down in the seat on the left, and she was perfectly aware that it had been her mother's seat when she had attended council meetings. Once the twins sat down, Jayne folded her hands on her lap, mentally readying herself.

"Lord Drakon has decided to remain at the Whispers for the time being" Rona told the other advisors. "He has named his children as the acting Lords and Lady of Dragon's Rest". She then turned to the three Blackfyre children smiling in support.

Jayne glanced at her brothers before taking a deep breath. "What news is there?" she asked in as ladylike a voice as she could manage.

Rona was the first to speak. "A farmer in the Riverlands has recently bought his own land. He paid in silver, a great deal of silver".

"It's a little odd for a mere farmer to have extra coins, isn't it?" Edric asked.

"That is the question" Simon said, taking a drink from his wineglass.

"I learned that the farmer got his silver from men sworn to House Bolton" Rona said.

"House Bolton?" Edwyn asked. "Aren't they Stark bannermen?"

"They are, indeed" Maester Lucas replied. "They are one of the more well-known Northern houses, but also the most infamous".

"They paid the man his silver because of something he saw" Rona added. "Apparently, he spotted Brienne of Tarth escorting Jaime Lannister".

"Who is Brienne of Tarth?" Jayne asked.

"The only child of Lord Selwyn Tarth, a Baratheon bannerman. She has been pursuing the martial arts for most of her life".

"Where are the Tarth woman and the Kingslayer now?" Edric asked, crossing his arms.

"Well, if they're in the hands of House Bolton now", Ser Samwell said in his deep voice, "then my guess is that they'll take them to Harrenhal". When he spoke, a large wolf's head suddenly appeared beside the stocky Knight, startling Simon. The bailiff's reaction was understandable; the Direwolf was almost the size of a pony, and it dominated the Council chamber with its large physicality. Ser Samwell petted the Direwolf's head, and the furred predator was clearly enjoying it. Their father had sent the Knight along with their best hunter to deal with the monstrous Direwolf that had been terrorizing their Smallfolk. Ser Samwell had returned with the Direwolf at his side, along with claw marks across his face that he received whilst fighting it. The wolf, called Nymeria by Arya Stark, appeared to be completely loyal to him now.

"They two of them will have to survive being captives of the Boltons" Simon said, sounding as if he was placing a bet on the matter.

"There's also news from Nym, my spy in Riverrun" Rona said, drawing the children's attention. "Kirth is alive".

Jayne could hardly believe it. "Alive?" she asked, looking to her brothers, who were similarly shocked.

The grey-clad woman nodded. "He managed to escape Winterfell before it burned. He's been travelling with the Northern army, and is with them now".

_**At Riverrun…**_

__Kirth watched as Robb Stark and his great-uncle pushed the boat containing the body of the now late Lord Hoster Tully down the river. Tully custom dictated that funerals would be comprised of the family member's body being placed in a boat which was pushed down river while a relative shot a flaming arrow into it. That task currently fell to Lord Edmure Tully, the new Lord of Riverrun. Kirth watched him light the arrow, draw the bowstring, and fire. The arrow soared through the air before landing in the water a few feet away from the boat.

The minstrel sighed as Lord Edmure lit another arrow. He fired, and the arrow landed a few feet from the boat. He visibly grimaced, and the gathered crowd started murmuring. After firing a third and similarly failed shot, Ser Brynden, Lord Edmure's uncle, roughly shoved the man aside as he took the bow and nocked an arrow. The older man checked a nearby flag, gauging the winds, before he drew the bowstring and fired. As the arrow soared through the air, he turned around, tossed the bow to his nephew, and walked away. Kirth looked at the boat in the distance, and saw it light aflame a moment later. Lord Hoster Tully had been laid to rest.

_**North of the Wall; at Craster's Keep…**_

__Rolfe did his best to keep breathing steadily; the thing about the cold was that it tended to suck the air out of a person's lungs. His beard had almost completely frozen during the long trek from the debacle at the Fist of the First Men, and he felt as if his fingers and toes were almost useless from the cold. While the cold took priority, Rolfe had to admit that he was starving; they had had to abandon most of their supplies at the Fist during the retreat, which meant that they had run out of food long before they reached their destination.

Craster's Keep lay before them, and Rolfe knew that if the surviving brothers didn't get shelter from the worthless piece of wildling shit, then there would be blood. Sure enough, Craster himself stood at the doorway. "What have we here? Frozen crows?" the old man asked sarcastically.

"We've come a long way" Lord Commander Mormont said.

Craster surveyed what brothers were left. "Smaller flock than what you went north with".

"We can talk inside".

"Oh, can we?" Craster replied, his voice dripping with contempt. He glanced at each of the brothers as Rolfe felt his hand grasping his sword, and the veteran Ranger could tell that the Wildling man realized just how desperate they were. After a few minutes had passed, Rolfe found himself inside the main building alongside several brothers by the fire. A woman's screams could be heard coming from nearby. "Keep your eyes where they belong" the old man warned Rast, one of the younger Rangers. "They're not for you".

"Bet you feed that pig better than you feed us" Karl, another Ranger, said.

"Aye, pig's got value to me" Craster agreed. "You should all be kissing my feet for letting you in. I'd have turned you all away if I wasn't a godly man".

"You are a godly man?" the Lord Commander asked.

"I am" Craster maintained. "I got no fear of what's out there. When the white cold comes, your swords and cloaks and pretty fires won't help you. Only ones left will be those who are right with the gods, the real gods".

The painful moans continued, and Rolfe and several brothers looked back at the door.

"Go tell her she can bite down on a rag or she can bite down on my fist" Craster told one of his wives, and Rolfe found himself glaring at the old lecher. Luckily, the Lord Commander put everyone to work a few minutes later, saying that they had to earn their food. Just as he was about to start splitting some logs, Rolfe saw Sam Tarly standing against a wall, looking rather concerned about something.

Walking up to the large boy, Rolfe asked "You all right, lad?"

The question seemed to snap Tarly out of whatever he was thinking. He shook his head, saying "I'm just worried about Gilly; that's all".

Rolfe crossed his arms. Derryk had told him that Tarly had struck up a connection with one of Craster's younger wives when they had stopped at the keep before. "You're worried about her and her baby?" Tarly nodded, and the veteran Ranger said "Don't worry yourself, lad. My Sebastion took a day and a half to be born. He and his mother were fine. Gilly will, too". Clapping the fat boy's shoulder, he said "Best find some work to keep yourself busy".


	36. Chapter 36 - Training

_**At Dragonstone…**_

__Alvyn busied himself with countless sheets of parchment, crossing off names that were in the casualty reports from the Battle of Blackwater Bay against the roster of those men still loyal to Dragonstone. Thousands of Stannis Baratheon's men had died at the walls of King's Landing, and Alvyn had been working for weeks now, ever since he had arrived at Dragonstone. He picked up another sheet, and noticed a familiar name. "Matthos Seaworth" the old merchant read aloud. Turning to a nearby scribe who had been helping him, Alvyn asked "Is he a r-relation of Davos Seaworth?"

The young man gave him a puzzled look. "That was Davos' son. King Stannis' squire. If he'd survived the battle, he would've been a Knight one day".

Alvyn looked back at the name on the parchment. "Is he aware of his son's death?"

"He saw it happen" the scribe said. "They were on the same ship when the Wildfire took half of the fleet. Never stood a chance".

"A terrible thing", Alvyn said to himself, "to lose a s-son". After a moment, he took a blank piece of parchment and wrote a sympathetic letter to Davos Seaworth. "I-If you could d-deliver this to D-Davos, I would greatly appreciate it". The scribe appeared to be hesitant; after all, Davos had been imprisoned by Stannis for trying to kill the Lady Melisandre after he had returned. Eventually, the young man stood up and took the letter. As he walked away, Alvyn stared at the candle lighting his desk, thinking of his son, Elyas. After a few moments, he returned to work, trying to focus on other things. Suddenly, the Lady Melisandre stepped into the darkened chamber. Alvyn, upon noticing her presence, hastily stood. "M-My lady, I…"

The redheaded woman gently shushed him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I am leaving Dragonstone, tonight. I would like you to join me, my friend".

Alvyn bowed his head. "I'll pack m-my things at once, my lady".

_**At the Whispers…**_

__Drakon watched as one of his guards tied a lamb to a post on the grass. The small, white creature, upon seeing the Dragons, started panicking. It tried to run, but the rope tying it to the post was secure, and it couldn't get away. Drakon could tell that Rhaegon and Maelion were anxious to feast on the helpless creature, screeching with excitement as their frills flared. They suddenly lunged for the lamb, but the muscular man forced them back, pinching a section of the membrane that formed their frills along their necks. The action elicited a light squeal of pain from the both of them as Drakon said "_Kelitis_!" The Dragons finally settled down after he repeated the command a few times, and once they did, he released their frills. Standing up, he held out his hand as the guard passed a crossbow to him. Aiming at the lamb, Drakon fired, shooting the white creature in the side. Pointing at the wounded lamb, he said "_Ipradis_!" Rhaegon and Maelion then eagerly launched themselves at the lamb; Rhaegon bathed the creature in a torrent of Dragonfire, cooking it to a crisp before he and Maelion feasted upon it.

"Impressive" Visenya said. She had been watching him train the Dragons all morning, and Drakon had pointedly ignored her during that time.

Turning to the guard, the muscular man said "Bring another". The man walked off, and Drakon started reloading the crossbow. Off in the distance, the sounds of the waves crashing against the cliffs could be heard. It had the effect of creating the "whispers" that the castle was famous for; the legends concerning the abandoned castle spoke of the many severed heads belonging to Ser Clarence Crabb, a fabled Knight. The "whispers" were nothing more than the sounds of the waves hitting the holes in the cliff faces. Suddenly, Drakon felt hands on his back, and he instantly tensed, feeling as if the air in his lungs rushed out at once.

"Are you all right, brother?" she asked in High Valyrian.

Drakon didn't answer, and he soon felt her hands on his cheeks, turning his head to look at her. The muscular man gazed into his half-sister's violet eyes. "I'm sorry" he said at last.

"For what?" Visenya asked in the common tongue.

"I shouldn't have kissed you. It was wrong".

"Was it?" the beautiful woman asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Yes" Drakon replied, taking her hands in his and gently taking them off of his cheeks. "You're my sister".

"And you are my brother" she said. "Aren't we supposed to care for one another?"

"But not like that". Drakon said, trying his best to hold a conversation whilst battling the inner turmoil of emotions that was raging within him.

"You are not telling me everything" Visenya said, matter-of-factly. "What is it? You can tell me".

Drakon looked to his right, at the Dragons, who sat on the grass beside him and looked at him with their heads slightly cocked to the side. "It's been over a year since my wife died, but it still feels as if it was yesterday".

"You still mourn for her" Visenya surmised. Slipping one of her hands from his, she cupped his cheek and once more turned his head toward hers. "She is gone; you can't spend the rest of your life dwelling on the past".

"I made a promise" Drakon replied. "It is my obligation to avenge the Targaryens and oust those who have usurped their rightful place".

"And do you intend to walk down this path alone?"

Drakon nodded. "If I have to". Visenya did not reply. Instead, she pulled the muscular man down and kissed him on the lips. The kiss seemed to last for an eternity, and for one brief moment, Drakon felt as if he was whole again. As they separated, he felt his heart thundering in his chest as he gazed at the silver-haired woman.

"You are not alone" she whispered in his ear.

The guard then returned with another lamb, and Drakon returned to the task at hand. Once the small white creature was tied to the post, Rhaegon and Maelion tried to lunge at it. The muscular man pinched a section of their neck frills, and they yelped as he said "_Kelitis_!" Having learned their lesson from before, they stopped. Their frills still flared with excitement, but they remained where they were. Standing up, Drakon shot the lamb with the crossbow. Pointing to the small creature, he said "_Ipradis_!" Rhaegon and Maelion then lunged at the lamb, feasting once more.

_**At King's Landing…**_

__Ser Hugo sat in a chair, sharpening his sword. He was currently in one of the Goldcloak barracks, enjoying some free time. Ever since he had been appointed as the Lord Commander of the City Watch, he had had very little time to himself. Almost as if on cue, two members of the City Watch entered. "Commander" one of them said, drawing his gaze. "Lord Baelish wants us".

"And did Littlefinger say why?" the Knight asked, standing up.

"He's getting married" the other Goldcloak said.

"How wonderful for him" Ser Hugo dryly remarked as he sheathed his sword. He then made his way out of the barracks, followed by the two Goldcloaks. "So who's the lucky woman?"

"Lysa Arryn. He's leaving for the Vale soon, and apparently he's getting Harrenhal as well".

Ser Hugo frowned. "Not a man I trust with that many castles". An hour later, he was overseeing the preparations for Lord Baelish to leave for the Vale. "Take those down to the docks" he told a few of his men. As they carried several crates of Littlefinger's belongings away, Ser Hugo saw a redheaded woman stepping out of the man's room.

"Hello, Ser Hugo" the woman greeted with a smirk.

"Ros" he replied as he surreptitiously cast a glance at her bountiful chest. "So, Lord Tyrion is to be the new Master of Coin?"

"It looks that way" the woman replied.

Resting his hand on the handle of his sword, the Knight said "You've worked with Lord Baelish for a long time now. The man seems to be collecting titles like whores for a Nameday celebration. Do you trust him with that much power?"

Ros crossed her arms. Taking a deep breath, she looked directly into his eyes and said "No".

Ser Hugo nodded, already knowing the answer.

_**At Craster's Keep…**_

__Rolfe stood amongst the others as the funeral pyre was lit. The brother had died of a simple wound, one that could have been easily treated, and the veteran Ranger could sense the growing discontent among the remaining brothers. "His name was Bannon" the Lord Commander said over the burning fire. "He was a good man. A good Ranger". After quietly asking of the man's home, the old bear said "He came to us from White Harbour. He never failed in his duty. He kept his vows the best he could. He rode far, fought fiercely, and we shall never see his like again".

"And now his watch is ended" Rolfe said with the others. With the funeral done, everyone soon dispersed.

One of the younger brothers muttered "Mormont's led us to our deaths!"

Rolfe glared at the younger man. "We swore an oath" he growled. "Didn't say we had to like it. We do what the Lord Commander says". Not even bothering to hear the other's response, Rolfe went back to chopping wood with his axe. A few minutes passed by, and a small group of brothers walked up to him.

"Tonight" one of them said. "We take the keep tonight. Are you with us?"

Rolfe felt the anger and disgust boiling within him. Maintaining a firm grip on his axe, he said "I swore an oath, you miserable little shits!" Suddenly, everything became black.

Waking up with a bump on his head and a throbbing headache, the veteran Ranger examined his surroundings. He was in one of the many sheds surrounding Craster's Keep, and after a quick check, he knew that the door was locked. The traitorous brothers had locked him in when he wouldn't betray his oath. Reaching into his black sleeve, he pulled out a knife; apparently, the would-be-mutineers were so hasty to dispose of him that they hadn't even bothered to thoroughly check him. With the knife in hand, he soon forced his way through the door of the shed, walking out onto the snow. Rolfe could hear shouting coming from within the main building, and he knew that time was running out. Suddenly, the gods decided to piss on them all, as several screams sounded from within the keep moments before the brothers began fighting amongst themselves. Before Rolfe could enter and come to the aid of his brothers, he saw Sam Tarly running outside, taking the wife and newborn babe he had been so interested in before running toward the forest. Unfortunately, a few of the mutineers saw them as well, and they started running after the fat boy.

"Ah, fuck it!" Rolfe growled as he ran after them. He quickly caught up to the mutineers, stabbing the closest one in the back. The man cried out in pain before dropping to the ground, and the others turned to look at the veteran Ranger, leaving Sam Tarly and the wife to flee into the forest. Rolfe slit the throat of another mutineer before easily dispatching the other two. Wiping the blood from the dagger on his sleeve, he sheathed the dagger just as a voice called "Hey, come on and celebrate! We found Craster's hidden larder!"

Suppressing the urge to kill them all, Rolfe realized that his best chance of survival now was to pretend to be one of them, and hope for the best. Turning around, he walked back toward the keep. "We'll be eating well tonight, lads!" he said in as merry a voice as he could manage as he clapped one of the mutineers on the back.


	37. Chapter 37 - Valyria Reborn

_**At Astapor…**_

__Olene crouched beside the Princess as she placed the collar around the neck of the largest of her three Dragons, the black and red one. The Braavosi woman pursed her lips in silent frustration; ever since the silver-haired girl had made this deal with the despicable Kraznys, everyone in the Khalasar had been a little on edge. Even Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan had voiced their concerns, but to no avail. The Princess was determined to gain the Unsullied army, and she was not one to back down once she had made a decision. "His name is Drogon" the silver-haired girl said, gently stroking the creature's head. "I named him after my late husband".

Olene nodded. After a moment, she finally gave voice to her concerns, saying "Please, Princess, I beg you to reconsider. These men do not deserve…" She was cut off by a sharp look from the Princess, and bowed her head in resignation. Eventually, they all made their way to where the Unsullied had been gathered, along with all the Good Masters and their servants.

Kraznys began speaking, and Missandei, his former slave who now served the Princess, translated. "The Master says that they are untested. He says you would be wise to blood them early. There are many cities between here and there, cities ripe for sacking. Should you take captives, the Masters will buy the healthy ones for a good price. And who knows: in ten years, some of the boys you send them will be Unsullied in their term, and all shall prosper".

As the Princess made the exchange, Kovarro, who stood beside Olene, muttered "This is a mistake".

"I agree", the Braavosi replied in Dothraki, "but the Khaleesi has made her decision". The Princess handed the collared Drogon over to Kraznys, who gave her the whip that marked her as leader of the Unsullied. Olene watched as the Dragon screeched while the silver-haired girl walked toward her new army.

Kraznys complained that Drogon would not come, and, much to everyone's shock, the Princess replied "A Dragon is not a slave" in flawless High Valyrian.

Olene glanced at Kovarro, smirking at the Bloodrider.

Turning to the Unsullied, the Princess said in High Valyrian "Unsullied! Slay the Masters, slay the soldiers, slay every man who holds a whip, but harm no child".

The Unsullied slowly started to obey their command, killing several of the Masters and their guards. Olene drew her rapier, and saw Ser Barristan and Kovarro drawing their blades as the square began to become the scene of a slaughter. On the Princess' command, Drogon burned Kraznys alive before breaking his collar and burning any enemy he could find. As a battle erupted all around them, Olene heard several shouts coming from nearby. Turning to her right, she saw many of the slavers' guards charging her and the Dothraki. Brandishing her rapier, the Braavosi woman threw herself into the fight, employing all her skill. She felled several enemies before she was unexpectedly tackled to the ground. Feeling a knife against her throat, Olene thought that her end had finally come when the man on top of her suddenly became limp. Shoving him off of her, the Braavosi woman rolled onto her back and saw Kovarro standing above her, his Arakh bloody. He offered his hand and helped her to stand. They nodded at each other before rejoining the battle. Within the next hour, the Princess and her new army were marching out of the ruined city.

Ser Jorah rode his horse next to Olene's. "Braavosi", he said, "did you know of her plans?"

Olene smirked at the exiled Knight. "The Princess mentioned her fluidity in High Valyrian to me in passing while we were sailing here; I knew that she could understand everything that filthy Master was saying. Also, her Dragons are her children. Do you really think that she would give them up so easily?"

The man nodded, and as he gazed at the Princess, Olene glanced back at Kovarro, and smiled at the Dothraki man who had saved her life.

_**At the Whispers…**_

__Drakon inspected Rhaegon as the haunting whispers sounded across the area. The silver Dragon's head had been slowly elongating over the past few weeks as his jaws extended forward. The horns along the back of his skull were elongating as well, becoming even more fierce-looking, and his golden wings were growing. The same could be said for Maelion, and Drakon could see them reaching a size where they could be ridden within the next few years. The muscular man gently opened Rhaegon's mouth, checking the Dragon's sharp teeth. The creature's tongue undulated while its jaws were held open, and Drakon closed them a moment later, having finished examining the silver Dragon. After performing a similar examination of Maelion, he said "_Sovetis_". The two of them then leaped from the cliff, soaring through the air. Drakon stood and crossed his arms, watching them fly in seemingly random formations for several minutes. Taking the Dragon horn in hand, he gave a single, sustained bellow, noticing the Valyrian glyphs lighting up as he did so. Off in the distance, the two Dragons immediately started flying toward him, landing at his feet a moment later.

He suddenly felt hands on his back. "That horn is certainly a marvel" Visenya said in her melodious voice.

Drakon cast a brief glance at the beautiful woman before replying "It certainly is. Where did you acquire it?"

"From the Red Keep" she replied. "You didn't think I only wanted to learn about the comings and goings of the so-called "royal court", did you?"

"I don't know what you want" Drakon said in mild frustration as he gave Rhaegon and Maelion a fist-sized chunk of cooked meat.

"I want our family to rise to glory" Visenya replied, moving into his line of vision. "Growing up in Lys, my mother told me stories of Old Valyria, and of the Dragonlords that conquered the known world. As a little girl, I would dream of what it would be like to experience that kind of power, to rule over masses and, in some small way, recreate the glory of our ancestors".

"So is that what you want, then?" Drakon asked, staring directly into her violet eyes. "Power? Do you want to sit on the Iron Throne and command the Seven Kingdoms?"

"I want you to sit on the Iron Throne".

"I don't" Drakon growled, taking a step toward his half-sister. "I'm not doing all of this for glory or power; I'm doing it to fulfill a promise I made to Rhaegar, to avenge the deaths of his family and to make our father's House one that is not spoken of with contempt or distorted truths".

"How will you make House Blackfyre an honoured House if it does not rise to power?" Visenya countered, arching an eyebrow. "Do you think the Starks or the Baratheons or the Tyrells are honoured houses simply because their members wish it so? They are honoured because they are Great Houses that rule over three of the Kingdoms".

Drakon growled in frustration as he turned away, gazing off in the distance.

He felt Visenya's hands on his shoulders as she said "Growing up with Rhaegar, you must have been jealous of him".

"Of course I was jealous" Drakon replied. "He was a better man than I. He was loved by the whole country, he could sing the greatest bards out of their coin, and he became a master swordsman once he decided to start training; he became a master at anything he set his mind to".

"And he was the Crown Prince, destined to sit on the Iron Throne".

"No, he was destined to die at the Trident" Drakon retorted.

After a moment, Visenya said "Rhaegar was a great man, but now he is gone. The Targaryens are gone".

"There is still a living Targaryen".

"A girl at the far side of the world? A girl who knows nothing about the art of ruling, who probably won't even attempt to conquer Westeros for years to come? Even if she does, even if she somehow managed to conquer the Starks, the Lannisters, the Baratheons, the Martells, the Tyrells, the Greyjoys, the Arryns, and the Tullies, what is stopping her from plunging the country into complete chaos through madness or ineffectual rule? You are in Westeros right now; you are a master at every weapon in the known world, you have two Dragons that grow larger every day, and you have experience with ruling over people, and ruling them well".

Her words were starting to make sense, Drakon had to admit. Those very same thoughts had occurred to him. Shaking his head, the silver-haired Blackfyre man shook free of his sister's hands. Turning to look at her, he said "I made a promise, and I intend to keep it". He then walked away, followed by Rhaegon and Maelion, as he tried to eliminate the notions that she had put in his head. He refused to allow anyone, even his half-sister, to dissuade him from a course he had set for himself a long time ago. He would avenge Rhaegar and his family, and he would see Daenerys Targaryen put on the Iron Throne, no matter the cost.


	38. Chapter 38 - A Beast Awoken

_**At Riverrun…**_

__Kirth watched as two Stark men brought Lord Karstark before what would soon become the man's chopping block, feeling thoroughly soaked as the rain fell mercilessly on him and all those gathered. Lord Karstark and his men had murdered two Lannister squires that Lord Edmure had captured in battle, and now he was about to lose his head for treason. Northern honour what it was, even Kirth could see that this was a bad move; the Karstarks would march home, and the Young Wolf would lose a significant portion of his army.

The two men exchanged a few words, which appeared to contain a great deal of bile and disgust. Lord Karstark then kneeled, and Robb Stark took the man's head with a single swing. The Starks' position in the War of Five Kings was just placed on the edge of a knife.

_**At King's Landing…**_

__Ser Hugo watched as Ser Loras sparred with another man. The Knight was currently standing guard over Margaery Tyrell and Sansa Stark, having volunteered for the task of guarding them. The two women were watching the Knight of the Flowers with glee. "He's such a splendid fighter, isn't he?" Sansa Stark asked as she admired the thin man.

Ser Hugo nodded. "I wouldn't want to face him on the field, my lady".

"Ser Hugo", Ser Loras called, having defeated his opponent, "would you care for a match?"

Lady Margaery clapped her hands together, laughing excitedly and saying "Oh yes, please do!"

Quietly accepting defeat, Ser Hugo walked over to the Knight of the Flowers, drawing his sword as the younger man prepared himself. Ser Loras attacked first, and Ser Hugo blocked a series of quick thrusts and slices. Ser Hugo then barely managed to duck below his opponent's sword, taking a step back. "You're quick" Ser Hugo noted.

"As are you, Ser" Loras replied.

Gripping his sword in a two-handed grip, Ser Hugo smirked and said "You're young; I'm just experienced". He then launched himself into the attack, doing his best to find a weak spot in his opponent's defense, but to no avail. Soon enough, Ser Hugo found himself on the ground, yielding to the Knight of the Flowers.

A few hours later, Ser Hugo and a few Goldcloaks walked into a tavern, looking for the disturbance which they had been called to deal with. They soon found it, and as they approached the bar, the crimson-clad Dwarf turned to appraise them, his eyes barely open. "Some wine, Ser?" Tyrion Lannister asked, holding his mug up and spilling some onto the floor. "I'm celebrating a marriage, you see".

"Whose marriage, my lord?" Ser Hugo asked.

The Imp failed to suppress a hearty laugh and said "My own! Haven't you heard the happy news? I am to marry Sansa Stark, and my sister is to marry… Ser Loras!"

Ser Hugo pursed his lips; this had to be a machination by Lord Tywin, and Tyrion hated him the most out of everyone in the Seven Kingdoms. Placing a hand on the Imp's shoulder, the Knight said "Come, my lord; we've been sent to bring you back to the Red Keep".

The little man shook him off. "Get off!" Regarding Ser Hugo with his half-opened eyes, he poked the Knight's chest with a stubby finger. "I will c-celebrate my upcoming nuptials however I want!" With a grin on his face, he fell off his stool and crashed onto the tavern floor, unconscious.

Ser Hugo sighed, inwardly cursing some of the less savoury aspects of his appointment. Bending down, he took the Imp and slung him over his shoulder. He then walked out of the tavern with the two Goldcloaks.

_**Somewhere in the Riverlands…**_

__Alvyn brought his horse to a stop beside the lady Melisandre's as a fairly ragged-looking man with a bow came up to them and said "That's about far enough". After weeks of travelling, the old merchant was finally glad to have arrived at their destination; he only hoped that he would survive the encounter. Lady Melisandre conversed with one of the men in front of them in a language that he did not recognize, but they seemed to have a degree of familiarity with one another. The ragged men proved to be friends, as well as fellow worshippers of the Lord of Light. After a few minor conversations, Alvyn learned that they called themselves the "Brotherhood Without Banners" and resisted Lannister occupation of the Riverlands.

In time, the small group was ready to set out for Dragonstone, with a young smith's apprentice tied up in the wagon. Alvyn rode behind the wagon as they started the return journey, and the bound young man asked "Where are you taking me?"

"The L-Lady Melisandre serves K-King Stannis" Alvyn replied. "We are taking you t-to him". The old merchant saw the look of uncertainty in the young man's eyes, and for the first time since converting to the eastern religion, Alvyn found himself questioning the Lord of Light.

_**At the Whispers…**_

__Drakon removed the simple shirt he had been wearing, baring his bulky, well-muscled torso. Tossing the shirt onto the bed he had had brought into the ruined castle, the muscular man gazed through an empty section of a ruined wall at the Blackwater. Night had fallen an hour ago, and Drakon had finished training Rhaegon and Maelion for the day, letting them rest on one of the two remaining towers. They continued to grow daily, and, fortunately, their training was going very well. He was confident that when the Dragons eventually grew into a larger size, he would be able to properly keep them in line. He heard someone approaching, and turned to see Visenya stepping into the half-crumbled room where he had chosen to sleep during his stay at the abandoned castle. He caught her appraising his prodigious muscles before she looked him in the eyes.

"Are you here to convince me to sit on the Iron Throne?" he dryly asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"It is yours, by right" the beautiful woman replied.

Drakon scoffed. "When I was a boy, I dreamed of what you did. I dreamed of commanding vast armies and millions of peasants on the backs of mighty Dragons".

"You still can" Visenya said, taking a step toward him. "You can still have all of that".

"They were just that", Drakon countered, "dreams. I came to my senses once I reached manhood. I realized that it wasn't my place to sit on the Iron Throne; it was Rhaegar's".

"Rhaegar is dead".

"I know that" Drakon icily replied. "The day he died was one of the worst days of my life".

Visenya took another step toward him, wiping a strand of silver hair out of her eye. "With Rhaegar and his father dead, you are the rightful heir to the crown. Royal secession dictates that all possible male heirs will inherit before any female heirs". Drakon pursed his lips as he maintained his gaze on her, and she asked "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

"Of course I knew" Drakon spat, turning to look out through the ruined wall. He audibly sighed, then said "I never wanted to be King. I never wanted to sit on the Iron Throne. It wasn't my place".

He heard Visenya take two more steps toward him. "It is now. You should sit on the Iron Throne".

"I made a promise" Drakon said. "I promised to avenge the deaths of Rhaegar's family and put a Targaryen on the Iron Throne".

Visenya took another step, and Drakon felt her hands on his shoulders. "You are a Targaryen" she whispered in his ear, sending tingles through his spine. "We are descended from Aegon, the Fourth of his Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm". Drakon slowly felt her words making more and more sense. Despite his best efforts, despite the conscious effort to remember the promise he had made nineteen years ago, he knew that she was right. The Iron Throne was his, by all the rights of gods and men. As a final nail in the coffin, she whispered in his ear "You are the true King" in High Valyrian. Taking a deep breath, he turned around and looked down at his half-sister. She was standing right in front of him, no more than a forearm's length away. Her silver attire was on the floor behind her, leaving her completely naked. Drakon drank in every inch of her glorious body: her flawless skin, her round, ample breasts, and her wide hips. She was a goddess; every inch of her body was perfection. Drakon then looked into her violet eyes. There was genuine love in them, genuine caring for him and their family, as well as genuine desire. Drakon felt as if a beast had suddenly awoken within him, a beast which Visenya had broken out of its confines; a Dragon. Suddenly, he took his half-sister in his arms, passionately kissing her as she ran her hands through his silver hair. She then hastily untied the strings on his breeches as he carried her over to the bed.

Over an hour later, Drakon stared up at the stars through the nonexistent ceiling as a calm breeze gently caressed his naked body. Beside him, Visenya peacefully slept as her nude flesh was pressed against him, her long, silver hair draping across her body like a cloak. Taking stock of what had transpired, he came to the realization that for the first time since Jocelyn's death, he felt whole again. The gaping hole in his heart had finally been filled, and he now had a new source of strength. He also found that he had a new purpose; where before his life's mission had been to put one of Rhaegar's siblings on the Iron Throne, he now knew that the only choice was to put himself on it. And the more he thought of it, the more it all made sense to him; he had promised to avenge the deaths of Rhaegar's family, and he had promised to put a Targaryen on the Iron Throne. Visenya was right; they were Blackfyres, which meant that they had Targaryen blood in their veins. Beside him, the beautiful woman stirred, opening her violet eyes and gazing at him. "I love you" she said, kissing him with her ruby lips.

"I love you, as well" Drakon replied, holding his arm across her back.

Visenya made a contented sigh. "Do you have any regrets?"

Drakon shook his head. "I did at first, but that was because I had been seeking one goal for twenty years; I didn't know of any other until you came along".

"So what are you going to do now?"

Drakon gazed into her mesmerizing violet eyes and replied "We are going to go home, and we are going to take back the Iron Throne from the oathbreakers and usurpers that took it from us. The Black Dragon will burn away all those who oppose us".


	39. Chapter 39 - The Return

_**At King's Landing…**_

__Ser Hugo walked through the gardens of the Red Keep, passing by the occasional lord, lady, or Knight. He eventually made it to a little nook that a certain noblewoman had made her own in the recent weeks. Passing by several handmaidens, the Knight walked up to the Lady Olenna of House Tyrell, Margaery and Loras' grandmother. Bowing, he said "Lady Olenna, I've come to escort you to the Tower of the Hand".

The old woman appraised him for a moment. "Why?" she asked.

Ser Hugo was slightly taken aback. "Why what?"

"Why must I go to the Tower of the Hand?"

"Because", Ser Hugo explained, "Lord Tywin sent me to escort you".

"And why does Lord Tywin want to see me?"

The Knight fought to contain his mounting frustration. "He is the King's Hand, my lady".

"And I am an old woman, and you are Lord Commander of the City Watch. That does not explain why I must go see him".

"He wants to meet with you".

"Why?" the old woman asked once more. "You must have at least some inkling as to why the Lion wishes to see me".

Sighing, Ser Hugo replied "I believe it concerns your grandson, Loras".

"I thought as much" the old woman said as she stood from her chair. She then took Ser Hugo's arm, allowing him to escort her to the Tower of the Hand.

_**To the east; near Yunkai…**_

__Olene stretched her toned, lithe body on her bed, lazily running a hand over her naked, darkened skin. She sighed, enjoying what little free time she had been able to find. The Braavosi woman had followed Daenerys Targaryen and her army to Yunkai, the second city in Slaver's Bay, and they had made camp near it. A man's hand joined hers in running across her nude, sweaty body. Turning her head to the side, she kissed Kovarro on the lips, rolling on top of him. "Yunkai is another prize for the Khaleesi" he said.

"There are many slaves in the city" Olene replied in Dothraki. During her time with the Princess and her people, the Braavosi woman had picked up a greater degree of skill with the horse-lords' tongue. "The Khaleesi wants to free them".

"She is strong" Kovarro added. "She will take the city".

Olene smirked, resting her hands on the Dothraki man's shoulders. "She has her army, now she needs her subjects". She then stood, walking over to the side of her tent where she kept her belongings. The Braavosi picked up her rapier, examining the weapon as Kovarro came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her neck. "It's time to see what the Yunkish are made of".

A short time later, Olene stood in Princess Daenerys' tent, alongside Ser Barristan, Ser Jorah, Grey Worm, and Missandei as the Yunkish delegation arrived. The Master that had been sent had a general air of superiority about him, and Olene saw him for the disgusting parasite that he really was. "Now comes the noble Razdal mo Eraz", Missandei announced, "of that ancient and honourable House, master of men and speaker to savages, to offer terms of peace". When the man began to approach the Princess, her Dragons screeched in warning, causing the man to flinch. "Noble lord, you are in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons".

"You may approach" the Princess said to the Master. "Sit".

One of the Dothraki servants brought a seat for the Master. After sitting down and accepting refreshment, he said "Ancient and glorious is Yunkai. Our Empire was old before Dragons stirred in Old Valyria. Many an army has broken against our walls. You shall find no easy conquest here, Khaleesi". He was interrupted as the Princess took a chunk of meat and tossed it into the air, causing her three Dragons to fight over it and unsettle the Master. Olene smirked at the trick.

"Good" the Targaryen girl replied. "My Unsullied need practice. I was told to blood them early".

"If blood is your desire, blood shall flow. But why? 'Tis true you have committed savageries in Astapor. But the Yunkai'i are a forgiving and generous people". The Master clapped his hands, and two of his servants brought forth chests filled with gold. "The Wise Masters of Yunkai have sent a gift for the Silver Queen. There is far more than this awaiting you on the deck of your ship".

The Princess arched an eyebrow. "My ship?"

"Yes, Khaleesi" the Master replied. "As I said, we are a generous people. You shall have as many ships as you require".

"And what do you ask in return?"

"All we ask is that you make use of these ships. Sail them back to Westeros where you belong and leave us to conduct our affairs in peace".

The Princess glanced at the slaves that were attending the Master. Olene knew that the Targaryen girl would never leave, not while slaves still remained. "I have a gift for you as well: your life".

"My life?" the Master asked, taken aback.

"And the lives of your Wise Masters. But I also want something in return. You will release every slave in Yunkai. Every man, woman, and child shall be given as much food, clothing, and property as they can carry as payment for their years of servitude. Reject this gift, and I shall show you no mercy".

"You are mad. We are not Astapor or Qarth. We are Yunkai and we have powerful friends. Friends who would take great pleasure in destroying you. Those who survive, we shall enslave once more. Perhaps we'll make a slave of you as well". He stood up, and Drogon screeched a warning at him. "You swore me safe conduct" the Master said, clearly nervous.

"I did", the Princess replied, glancing at her children, "but my Dragons made no promises. And you threatened their mother".

"Take the gold" the Master ordered his slaves. As they approached, the Dragons hopped down onto the chests and screeched, flaring their neck frills and raising their wings in a threatening gesture.

"My gold. You gave it to me, remember? And I shall put it to good use. You'd be wise to do the same with my gift to you. Now get out". The Master walked back to his litter with his attendants, cursing under his breath in bastardized Valyrian. Olene smirked; Yunkai didn't stand a chance against the Dragon.

_**At Dragon's Rest…**_

__Drakon rode through the main gate of Dragon's Rest, accompanied by the twenty guards that had stayed at the Whispers with him. Visenya sat behind him, her arms wrapped around his abdomen as they came to a stop in the courtyard. Rhaegon and Maelion were flying above, making the occasional sound as they soared through the sky. Drakon dismounted, as did his guards, proceeding to easily lift Visenya off of his black steed and onto the ground. He turned around and saw his children and advisors gathered to greet him. Jayne was the first to walk up to him. "Jayne; you're more beautiful now than before I left" he said, kissing her on the cheek and embracing her.

"It's good to see you, father" she replied.

Drakon then embraced the twins. Placing a hand on both of their shoulders, he asked "Have you been fighting?" They nodded. "Have you been winning?" They nodded more vigorously, and Drakon smiled with pride. He then turned to look at Ser Samwell.

"My lord" the stocky Knight greeted, bowing his head.

"Ser Samwell" Drakon replied. His gaze was then drawn to the Knight's side, where a monstrous Direwolf stared up at him. He'd heard the Northern legends about the creatures, as well as the accounts of the Direwolves belonging to the Stark children, but they didn't exactly do them full credit. The beast was as tall as Drakon's stomach, and its thick, muscled body was covered with a mixture of white and grey fur. Nymeria, if he recalled the name correctly, gazed up at Drakon, baring her fangs. The muscular man got down on one knee, staring directly into the massive Wolf's eyes as it growled threateningly. He continued to stare at the creature for several moments, until it stopped growling and seemingly bowed its head in respect. Standing up, Drakon took another look at Ser Samwell, and saw the claw marks on the man's bearded face. "It looks as if this Direwolf gave you some trouble".

"No trouble, my lord" Ser Samwell replied in his deep voice. "She just needed to be properly tamed. Nymeria lived up to her namesake".

"Welcome back, my lord" Maester Lucas greeted. "Were your efforts successful?"

Drakon did not reply; instead, he took out the Dragon horn and gave a single bellow. Rhaegon and Maelion gave a cry from afar, and they instantly flew toward him, landing a few moments later. The two Dragons landed beside him, and it was clear by their expressions that Drakon's children and councilors took notice of their recent growth. "I believe they were, Maester". Nymeria started growling at the Dragons, who lightly screeched in warning, flaring their neck frills as they did so. Drakon placed a hand on their silver and bronze heads, gently shushing them as Ser Samwell gently but firmly placed a hand on Nymeria's back. Turning around, the Blackfyre man motioned his newest companion over to him. Placing a hand on her back, he said "I would like to introduce you all to Visenya. She helped me to acquire the Dragon horn, and she will be staying with us". The advisors greeted the silver-haired woman, and Drakon could tell that his children were courteous, but a little apprehensive; they could tell that he and Visenya were close, and no matter how much time passed, the possibility of another woman holding his heart would be difficult. He could also see Rona's eyes flicking to the hand he had on his sister's back with a well-hidden look of concern; he would have to have words with her. "How did my children fare in my absence?" he asked her.

The grey-clad Spymaster straightened her back, replying "They did very well, my lord".

"We're just glad you're back" Edric commented, eliciting a smile from Jayne and his brother.

Drakon smiled as well. "Let us convene in the Council chamber". Jayne and the twins then went about their own business, leaving the rest of them to return to matters at hand. Before going inside, he let Rhaegon and Maelion return to their afternoon flight. Entering the Council chamber, Drakon took his seat at the head of the table while Visenya sat down to his left. A servant took the third seat away, and he could tell that the gathered advisors noticed that his sister now sat where Jocelyn had before her death. "Now, what news?" he asked.

"Kirth is alive, my lord" Maester Lucas said.

"Alive?" Drakon asked, hardly believing the news. "Where is he?"

"He's with the Northern army" Rona said. "They're currently making their way to the Twins, where Robb Stark plans to marry his uncle Edmure to one of Walder Frey's daughters".

"Walder Frey; the Young Wolf must truly be desperate".

"Indeed, my lord" Simon agreed, drinking from his wineglass. "He lost nearly half his army when he executed Lord Karstark for treason. Desperation is all he knows now".

"If he succeeds in allying with the Freys, what chance does he have?" Drakon asked, interlocking his fingers.

"The Freys command 4 000 men-at-arms" Ser Samwell said as Nymeria laid down on the floor behind him. "If Robb Stark absorbs them into his army, then there's a good chance that he can regain the momentum he has lost".

Drakon nodded. "He's already proven himself a master tactician".

"And a horrible politician" Simon sardonically remarked.

"There's also news from Harrenhal" Rona reported. "The Boltons have released Jaime Lannister with an escort. He's making his way to King's Landing even now".

Drakon's muscles tensed and his knuckles turned white, doing his best to maintain a calm composure. "And what of his companion, the Tarth woman?"

Rona frowned. "I do not know, my lord. She is most likely still a prisoner of the Boltons".

"I wonder if the Kingslayer's escort will treat him better than the last one" Maester Lucas said.

Gammer Wilde cackled from her seat. "They will if the Young Wolf cares to see his sisters again. They already stand to lose a hand apiece!"

Drakon stared at the crimson tablecloth. "He will no doubt turn on his escort in time. That is his way".

Septa Eleanor nodded. "Even if he may be a changed man now, the Father has already judged him guilty for his crimes".

"Have someone keep an eye on him" the muscular man told Rona. Turning to the other advisors, he asked "Now, how is the hold doing?"

Simon shrugged. "As well as can be expected" he said, taking a sip of wine. "Stannis Baratheon and those houses sworn to him are still blocking trade through Blackwater Bay, but with the Tyrells allied with the Lannisters, food is arriving in King's Landing daily from the Reach. That means that the black market has been flooded, and I've been able to acquire a little extra food supplies for us and our allies".

"Good" Drakon said.

"Speaking of which", Maester Lucas said, "we've been receiving ravens from the Lords of Crackclaw Point. They are anxious to know when we can make our move against the Lannisters".

"Tell them to be patient", Drakon replied, "and remind them that because of my initiative, we are closer to ousting the Lannisters than they have ever been in the last twenty years". Maester Lucas nodded, and Drakon turned to Ser Samwell. "How is the militia doing?"

The stocky Knight replied "It is doing well, my lord. Under our direction, it has grown into an effective fighting force. With most of the fighting in the Riverlands done for now, the number of refugees flowing into the Crownlands has trickled down to almost nothing, and the groups we have been sending to Ser Hugo in King's Landing have helped us to manage the militia's numbers".

Drakon smiled marginally. "Excellent. We'll re-convene tomorrow". The gathered advisors all stood and bowed, and Visenya gave him a warm smile before she left with them. Rona, however, remained where she was.

Drakon stood, and she said "My lord…"

"You lied to me" he cut her off. "I'm not angry; I understand why you did it, and I thank you for letting Visenya live".

Rona bowed her head. "My lord, I feel that I should…"

"You are my oldest friend. You introduced me to Jocelyn, helped me raise my children, and served me faithfully for almost eighteen years now. That being said, I forbid you from telling anyone that Visenya is my sister. The others, Jayne, Edric, Edwyn: they wouldn't understand".

Rona stared directly into his eyes. "I understand completely, my lord".

Drakon returned her stare, but she didn't flinch; she was one of the few people that wasn't defeated by his withering glares. He walked past his Spymaster, stopping for a moment in order to whisper in her ear "I trust you to do the right thing". He then walked out of the Council chamber, leaving Rona to her thoughts. She could say or think whatever she wanted; he and Visenya shared a real connection. They were not beholden to anyone; they were Blackfyres, Blood of the Dragon, and they were meant for each other.


	40. Chapter 40 - The Lion and The She-Wolf

_**At King's Landing; in the Sept of Baelor…**_

__Ser Hugo took his place with all the other courtiers and nobles as the wedding of Tyrion Lannister to Sansa Stark began. The Knight had realized that Lord Tywin had been making a political move to bring the North under Lannister control, but he also realized how cruel it was, to both the bride and the groom. The wedding had been the talk of the city for days now, and Ser Hugo was tired of all the cruel jokes and bets being placed. The doors of the Sept of Baelor opened, and Sansa Stark stepped through. The girl was certainly pretty, but she also had the unmistakable air of utter dread about her. Suddenly, the boy King, Joffrey, took his place beside her and offered her his arm. As they slowly walked toward the altar, where the High Septon and Tyrion Lannister were waiting, Ser Hugo could see that the Stark girl was as pale as a white linen.

Once Sansa Stark took her place beside her soon-to-be husband, the vicious bastard boy took the Imp's footstool, deliberately pranking his uncle. "You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection" the High Septon declared, his voice carrying throughout the Sept. It quickly became obvious that the little Lannister wouldn't be able to cloak Sansa without his stool, and the Knight reflexively clenched his hands into fists as many of those gathered began laughing derisively. Lord Tywin silenced many of the mockers with a withering glare, and Ser Hugo silenced the others that were standing near him. "Your Grace, Your Grace, my lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever!"

Soon enough, Tyrion and Sansa exchanged their vows, and became man and wife. Later, as everyone was enjoying wine and food at the wedding feast, Ser Hugo found himself standing next to Bronn, the Imp's Sellsword companion. The two men watched as the little Lannister looked about ready to burst from so much wine. "We should cut him off" the Sellsword suggested. "Wouldn't want him making a fool of himself".

A bit late for that, Ser Hugo thought to himself. "I'll speak to the kitchen staff" he said, taking a sip of his own wine. "A bit of coin will help".

"You'll never have as much as a Lannister" Bronn countered.

Ser Hugo nodded, taking another sip of wine as Joffrey called for the Bedding Ceremony. This was the part of the wedding that the Knight knew would cause the most friction. He watched, along with all those gathered, as the boy King tried to humiliate his uncle and newly-made aunt. Ser Hugo took another drink, and nearly choked when Tyrion threatened to cut the boy King's cock off with his knife. The room was deathly silent, until Lord Tywin intervened and managed to defuse the situation. After a few awkward minutes, Tyrion and Sansa made their way to their room, leaving everyone present in mild shock.

Lord Tywin then walked up to Ser Hugo. "Distract him" the older man tensely commanded, referring to the King. The bastard appeared ready to kill the next thing that made a sound.

"Yes, my lord" Ser Hugo replied, handing his wineglass to Bronn. He then found a servant carrying some wine. "You there" he called before taking a sip of the jug that the man was carrying. "This isn't nearly strong enough. Get the strongest wine you have and serve it to the King, now". The man bowed his head before walking off to the kitchens. Ser Hugo then approached the band, tossing one of them a bag of coins. "Play the Rains of Castamere, and play it loudly" he ordered them, praying to the gods that such a morbid song would please the boy King. The band started playing the Lannister song, and Ser Hugo approached Margaery Tyrell. Bowing, he said "My lady, I respectfully ask that you speak to the King". Taking a moment to glance at Joffrey, he said more quietly "You have a special influence over him, and I feel that it would be for the best". The beautiful Tyrell woman smiled and stood, making her way over to the King.

Ser Hugo then took a wineglass from one of the minor courtiers, downing the contents in a single gulp. He handed it back to the man before walking off; there wasn't a wine strong enough that could take the edge off serving the Lannisters.

_**At Dragonstone…**_

__Alvyn felt a slight tug on his robe. Turning around, he saw no one, but upon looking down, he saw the marked face of Shireen Baratheon, Stannis' daughter. The old merchant bowed his head. "H-Hello, Princess".

"Where did you go?" the little girl asked him.

"We went t-to do the will of the L-Lord of Light, child" he replied, groaning slightly as he knelt down to the girl's level. They had returned from their foray into the Riverlands earlier that morning, and the boy, Gendry, had been placed into one of the larger rooms in Dragonstone.

The Greyscale-affected child nodded. "Mother says that's important".

Alvyn leaned in, whispering as he asked "Where are you going?"

Shireen leaned in as well, whispering back "To see my friend, the Onion Knight".

Alvyn smiled. The little girl before him had a kind and gentle heart, and she reminded him of his own son when he had been her age. Patting her shoulder, he said "Well, b-best get going. I w-won't tell anyone if you won't". Shireen smiled and kissed the old merchant on the cheek before she walked off. Alvyn stood, wincing from the stress on his old bones. He then met with the Lady Melisandre, who he was going to see when he ran into Shireen.

"Our young smith seems ill at ease in his new home" the beautiful foreigner said. "I saw you speaking with him on the ship. Perhaps another talk would do him good?"

Alvyn bowed his head. "W-What are your plans with the boy, if I m-may ask, my lady?"

Melisandre smiled. "They are not my plans, sweet Alvyn. They are the Lord of Light's plans".

"Of course" the old merchant replied. "I shall speak to the boy presently". He then walked away, slowly making his way through the ancient fortress toward Gendry's room. As he rounded a corner, he came across none other than Davos Seaworth. "Ser Davos!" Alvyn exclaimed, surprised to see the man. "I thought t-the King h-had imprisoned y-you".

Ser Davos crossed his arms. "He released me; I'm now his Hand. Look, I don't know you, but you seem like decent folk. You can't let King Stannis kill the boy".

"Why would h-he kill the boy?" Alvyn asked.

"He will if his Red Woman asks him to" the other man replied sardonically. "She thinks that spilling King's blood will somehow gain him the throne".

Alvyn folded his hands in front of his stomach. "You s-swore to serve the K-King, Ser. You cannot b-betray him now, after he h-has just released you".

Davos snorted. "Better my King's hatred than an innocent boy's blood on my conscience". He hesitated for a moment before saying "I got your letter while I was in the dungeon. Thank you".

Alvyn nodded. "I know what it feels like to lose a son".

_**North of the Wall; at Craster's Keep…**_

__Rolfe rubbed his hands together before holding them up to the fire. Several of the mutineers sat around the fire, just trying to keep warm as most of the others ate, drank, and fucked their time away. The veteran Ranger had spent the last several weeks amongst the traitorous scum, watching as the former rapers and thieves broke every single vow they had made to the Night's Watch.

A brother to his left glanced around at the others before leaning in and whispering "We have to get out of here".

"We stick to the plan" Rolfe told the other man, keeping his voice low. "We wait for the others to pass out, then we leave and make our way to the Wall".

"Would they even take us back?" another brother asked from his right. "After everything we've done?"

Rolfe rested his hands on his knees. "I don't know what gods you boys follow, but leaving tonight and going back to the Wall is better than staying here with these bastards. Surely honouring your vows will mean something to em".

A few hours later, with most of the mutineers passed out from too much wine, Rolfe and those who had elected to go back with him gathered all the supplies that they could and started making their way into the forest when a number of Craster's wives approached them. Cursing under his breath, Rolfe kept a hand on his axe as one of the wives said "Please, take us with you! Don't leave us here!"

"We can't take them!" one of the younger brothers protested. "They'll slow us down!"

"They're coming with us!" Rolfe growled, staring the man down. Turning back to the wives, he said "Quickly, we need to be gone before any of them wake up".

_**At the Twins…**_

__Kirth watched silently as one of the House Frey servants passed a bowl of bread and salt to Robb Stark. By the ancient law of Guest Right, bread and salt sealed a pact between host and guest, one that was sacred and unbreakable. The bowl made its way to all of Robb's lords and family, eventually making it to Kirth himself. The minstrel consumed a small piece of bread before passing the bowl back to the servant. After that, Lord Walder, one of the oldest and most unpleasant men in the country, called forth his small horde of daughters and granddaughters so that Robb Stark could formally apologize to them for breaking his previous marriage pact with House Frey. The women of House Frey were infamous for being some of the most unattractive noble ladies in the Seven Kingdoms, and Kirth found a hard time disagreeing with that notion.

After the King in the North finished with his apology, the members of both Households set themselves toward preparing for the upcoming wedding. Kirth walked about the castle whistling a lively tune as he did so. Upon entering the kitchens, he was assaulted with a panoply of smells from the food that was being prepared for the feast. Glancing about, he stealthily plucked a piece of chicken from one of the platters, munching on it as he exited the kitchens. He then came to a hallway, and just as he was about to round the corner, he heard a voice talking. "If that old man were anyone else… the way he leered over you!"

Kirth pressed his back against the wall, not making a sound as a woman's voice replied "He's had his fun. You can punish him once you've won your war". The first voice started laughing, and the minstrel walked away, enjoying the rest of his chicken.


	41. Chapter 41 - Twin Weddings

_**To the East; Near Yunkai…**_

__Olene felt Kovarro's arm wrap around her waist as the two of them watched the Second Suns move their camp alongside theirs. Until recently, the Sellsword company had been hired by the slavers to repel Princess Daenerys and her army, but that had all changed the previous night. A lieutenant, Daario Neharis, had beheaded his Captains and pledged the Second Sons to the Princess' cause. Kovarro spit on the ground, saying "Sellswords" as if the word were a curse.

Olene turned to Grey Worm, the Commander of the Unsullied, and asked in High Valyrian "What do you think of our new comrades, Grey Worm?"

The Unsullied warrior looked out at the ragged group of Sellswords. "I serve Daenerys Stormborn" he replied. "They now serve Daenerys Stormborn. They are now my brothers".

Kovarro scoffed, and Olene smiled as she said in Dothraki "You once felt the same about the Unsullied. The Second Sons have pledged their service to the Khaleesi". The Braavosi woman kissed her lover on the cheek. "We all serve the Khaleesi".

_**At Dragon's Rest…**_

__Drakon watched as the doors of the Sept opened, revealing Visenya clad in a beautiful silver gown. She walked through the doors of the keep's Sept, drawing the eyes of all those gathered, which included all of Drakon's knights, his advisors, a small number of his Smallfolk, and his children. His sister walked down the aisle, her head held high as her silver hair cascaded down her back like a cloak; as their father had died when they were little, she walked alone. Above Drakon and the Septon, the fading evening sunlight shone through one of the Sept's two seven-pointed windows, bathing those gathered in twilight. Once she was standing beside her brother, the Septon, an older man with dark grey hair and thick grey sideburns, said "You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection".

Drakon took hold of the crimson cloak he wore, which displayed House Stormheart's sigil of four crossed swords on a field of crimson, and placed it over Visenya's shoulders. The two of them then faced the Septon with one hand over another, and the older man wrapped a strip of cloth around their hands, saying "In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one, for eternity. Look upon each other, and say the words".

Drakon and Visenya faced each other. "Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I am hers and she is mine, from this day until the end of my days".

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I am his and he is mine from this day until the end of my days".

The two of them embraced each other in a loving kiss as the gathered crowd applauded. When they ended the kiss, Visenya bore her characteristic smirk, and Drakon smiled. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Rona eyeing the proceedings with a well-hidden look of displeasure. Her acceptance, or lack thereof, did not matter; she had kept her silence on the matter of his and Visenya's true relationship, and Drakon's children and servants had accepted the silver-haired woman over the last few days. Everyone then made their way to the Great Hall, where the wedding feast saw everyone enjoying food and drink aplenty.

Drakon and Visenya sat at the head of the large chamber, at their own table, while everyone else was seated on the main level, below the steps. Rhaegon lay on the floor beside Drakon, his silver scales and golden wings glimmering in the torchlight, while Maelion rested on the floor beside Visenya, whom he had grown quite attached to. Drakon took a large leg of lamb and tossed it down to Rhaegon. As the Dragon feasted, the muscular man looked out at those gathered, and saw Ser Samwell handing Nymeria a piece of meat while his children occupied themselves with conversation.

After some time had passed, Drakon reached his arm down and gently dragged his fingernails across the top of Rhaegon's head, causing the silver-scaled creature to screech and draw the attention of everyone in the Great Hall. "I thank you all", Drakon called, "for joining me in this precious occasion. I invite you all to take heed, and let the Bedding Ceremony commence!" Most of those gathered clapped and shouted in excitement, while his children consciously returned to their conversation and food. The muscular man glanced at Visenya, who gave him a puzzled look; obviously, this was one Westerosi custom which she was not familiar with. It was Drakon's turn to smirk as a number of his male knights and servants crowded Visenya's side of the table. Maelion backed away, lightly growling at being forced from his resting place as Drakon's new bride was carried out, while he himself was escorted by many of his female servants. He belatedly noticed that Rhaegon similarly growled as he backed away from the crowd of women, but the silver-haired Blackfyre man's attention was soon totally focused on the immediate proceedings.

_**At the Twins…**_

__Kirth laughed with a few Northern lords who sat at his table, enjoying the wine and food that the Freys had so graciously provided. At the far end of the Main Hall, Lord Edmure sat near Lord Walder, obviously enjoying his good fortune at having married the one beautiful Frey girl. The minstrel sarcastically asked "The gods love to reward a fool, don't they?" as he chewed on a piece of pork.

One of the Northern lords said "I'll drink to that!"

Kirth had to admit that the wedding had gone better than he had expected. With Walder Frey being what he was, the minstrel half-expected Robb Stark and his army to be turned away at the castle gates. But, there they were, enjoying his hospitality as his House joined with House Tully. Suddenly, Lord Walder called "Your Grace", causing everyone in the Hall to be silent. "The Septon has prayed his prayers, some words were said, and Lord Edmure has wrapped my daughter in a cloak. But they are not yet man and wife. A sword needs a sheath".

Kirth and his Northern companions laughed at the comment; if anything, Lord Walder was direct and straight to the point.

"And the wedding needs a Bedding". The Hall erupted into loud cheering as the old man asked "What does my sire say?"

Robb Stark stood up and replied "If you think the time is right, Lord Walder, by all means, let us bed them". Kirth and the other guests started cheering once more as Lord Edmure and his new young bride were carried off by some of the women and men of House Frey, respectively. As the guests returned to their merriment, the band started playing the Rains of Castamere, the Lannister song.

Kirth perked up in his seat. "Something's wrong" he said, looking around the Main Hall.

"What's that?" of his Northern companions asked through his drunken haze.

"I know songs", Kirth explained, "and that is the Lannister song. Something's not right here".

"Your Grace" Lord Walder called, drawing everyone's attention. The old man stood and said "I fell I've been remiss in my duties. I've given you meat and wine and music, but I haven't shown you the hospitality you deserve. My King has married and I owe my new Queen a wedding gift".

Suddenly, Lady Catelyn stood up and struck Lord Bolton across the face before crying to her son "Robb!" No sooner had the word escaped her lips than one of the Freys drew a knife and stabbed Robb Stark's wife in the belly, eliciting cries of pain and surprise as another Frey quickly took Lord Bolton aside. A number of crossbow bolts then started raining down from above, striking several Northern lords and Robb Stark as the Frey men at the tables started cutting the Northerners down. One of the Northern lords sitting beside Kirth fell back as a crossbow bolt pierced his neck, and the minstrel got up from his chair and crawled under the table. He watched helplessly as the Northerners were mercilessly cut down by either the knives on the main level or the crossbow bolts raining down from above.

Suddenly, Kirth was forcefully dragged out from under the table by his hair, grimacing as he was brought to his knees. One of the Freys took his lyre and smashed it on the floor. Strangely, Kirth felt an odd sense of mourning for the instrument; it had been his constant companion for over a decade, and now it was gone. "You will all die for…" he started to say, before he felt cold steel slicing his neck. He collapsed onto the floor, and as he felt the life slowly ebbing from his body, he saw Lord Roose Bolton walk over and stab Robb Stark in the heart. The minstrel then breathed his last breath, dying on the cold, bloody floor of the Twins.


	42. Chapter 42 - Post-Wedding Celebrations

**Apologies for posting this mid-day. I slept in. **

_**At Dragon's Rest…**_

__Drakon held the parchment in his hand, staring at the crimson tablecloth as he felt the rage build within him. "Kirth is dead" he said, crumpling the parchment.

Rona folded her hands on her lap. "I am afraid so, my lord. My birds tell me that the near entirety of the Northern army was wiped out".

"The near entirety?" Visenya asked.

"By all accounts, the Boltons turned on the Starks" the grey-clad Spymaster explained.

"Disgraceful" Septa Eleanor spat. "Walder Frey offered Robb Stark the hospitality and protection of his House. He broke a sacred right!"

"Which is why it succeeded so perfectly" Simon dryly commented, taking a sip of wine.

The Septa's anger was not abated. "The gods will punish him for this sacrilege!"

Drakon then slammed his fist onto the table in anger. "They will pay for this" he said. "The Freys, the Boltons, Tywin Lannister, they will all pay, with Blood and Fire!"

He then felt Visenya's hands on his arm. Looking over at her, he saw that she smiled comfortingly. "We have to be smart about this; if we show our hand too soon, then we will all be doomed".

"She's right" Rona said, making the Council meeting one of the rare instances where she agreed with Drakon's bride. "With the Starks gone, the Lannisters now reign supreme".

"What did you mean when you mentioned Tywin Lannister, my lord?" Maester Lucas asked.

Drakon flexed his fingers, slowly letting his rage dissipate. "Walder Frey is a snake; he would never incur the wrath of the Starks and the North unless he had someone powerful offering him protection".

"And that would most likely be Tywin Lannister" Rona added.

"As you said: the Lannisters now reign supreme. Stannis Baratheon still hasn't recovered from his defeat at the Battle of Blackwater Bay, which leaves the Lannisters as the victors. It appears that the War of Five Kings has come to an end". He then stood up, turning to gaze at the burning hearth. "Septa Eleanor, you will travel to the Twins and… retrieve Kirth's body".

"My lord?" the woman asked, the apprehension evident in her voice.

"You will have a proper escort" Drakon added, assuaging her concerns. Turning to look at her, he said "Kirth may not have been my blood, but I considered him part of my family. He needs to be laid to rest here, where we can say goodbye".

Septa Eleanor nodded gravely, understanding his intentions.

_**At King's Landing…**_

__Ser Hugo hit the practice dummy once, twice, three times as the sun slowly made its journey across the sky. He had been practicing for over an hour, and he could feel the sweat running down his body. Two Goldcloaks approached, and one of them asked "Commander, did you hear the news?"

"What news?"

"The Young Wolf's dead" the other man replied. "His whole family, at the Twins".

The news struck Ser Hugo harder than the horse did at the Battle of Blackwater Bay. "Dead?" he asked. "How?"

The second Goldcloak shrugged. "Freys had help from the Boltons, I hear".

Ser Hugo looked up at the sky, doing his best to maintain a calm composure. The Knight had admired Robb Stark; a boy of his age who handily defeated the Lannisters in every battle was someone to be admired. His cause had been noble, and his army had been strong. All that aside, Lord Blackfyre's cousin, Kirth, had been travelling with the Northern army, and he had most likely perished along with the Starks. "Sounds like something Lord Tywin would orchestrate".

Several hours later, the Knight found himself drinking with Tyrion Lannister. It had been a very long day; Joffrey had commanded him to slaughter wolves in the Kingswood and bring back their pelts as part of a morbid celebration. After that, Ser Hugo and the Goldcloaks had been forced to gather what Northern supporters still remained in the city and mount their heads on the spikes in Traitor's Walk. The Knight had painstakingly ensured that his men had secretly allowed many of the Northern supporters to flee King's Landing; most of the heads now mounted on spikes were those formerly belonging to gutter rats from Flea Bottom.

As Ser Hugo downed the contents of his wineglass in a single gulp, Tyrion Lannister asked "Your day's been that rough, has it?"

The Knight nodded. "This is a dark time", he said, running a hand through his close-cut black hair, "when Guest Right is broken and families are slaughtered".

The Imp nodded. "As if my wife needed more reasons to hate me".

"My men tell me that your family was involved" Ser Hugo said, refilling his wineglass. "Are they wrong?"

The little Lannister shook his head. "My father admitted as much. Even with the Boltons, the Freys aren't that bold".

Ser Hugo nodded. "Sansa's still your wife, either way. And it's not as if you killed the boy and his mother".

The Imp scoffed. "You obviously have a lot to learn about women, my friend".

_**North of the Wall…**_

__Rolfe stumbled, collapsing onto the snow. Lifting his head, he could see that he was closer to the Wall that he had been in two years. Groaning with effort, he stood and wrapped his black cloak tighter around himself. After weeks of travelling, he was the only one left out of the group that had left Craster's Keep. A combination of starvation and cold had culled all but Rolfe, and the veteran Ranger could feel that he was starving, himself. "Still plenty of steps between us" the bearded man growled to himself. "Stop to stare again and you'll die, old man!" Muscles aching, stomach empty, and near death, Rolfe finally made it to the tunnel. A single horn blast sounded from the top of the Wall, and as the main gate opened, Rolfe finally collapsed.

After a few hours of recovery, the Ranger was finally back at Castle Black. He must have eaten like a starving Mammoth, for the brothers in the kitchen had had to forcibly remove him after a time. Rolfe was then brought before Maester Aemon, the century-old brother of the Night's Watch. "Tarly told me of the mutiny" the old man said. "He says that you helped him escape".

Rolfe shrugged. "Tarly is my brother, like all the rest".

_**In the East; at Yunkai…**_

__Olene stood beside Ser Jorah, Ser Barristan, Daario Neharis, and Missandei as they and the Princess gazed at the city of Yunkai, awaiting the arrival of its slaves. Behind them stood the army of Unsullied, standing in formation and presenting an impressive image. Ser Jorah, Grey Worm, and Daario Neharis had infiltrated the city the previous night, and had allowed the Unsullied to take the city without major resistance. The Princess' Dragons stirred, and Ser Barristan said "They will come, Your Grace, when they're ready".

"Perhaps they didn't want to be conquered" the Targaryen girl countered.

"You didn't conquer them" Ser Jorah countered. "You liberated them".

"People learn to love their chains".

Yunkai's gates opened, and hundreds of slaves began pouring out of the city. Olene watched as they approached, and saw the Unsullied in the front ranks lower their spears as the slaves came close. Missandei took a step forward, and called to the slaves in High Valyrian "This is Daenerys Targaryen, the Stormborn, the Unburnt, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, the Mother of Dragons. It is to her you owe your freedom".

The Princess then took a step forward. "You do not owe me your freedom. I cannot give it to you. Your freedom is not mine to give. It belongs to you and you alone. If you want it back, you must take it for yourselves. Each and every one of you". The crowd was silent, and Olene and the others watched with bated breaths. Suddenly, one of the slaves called "_Mhysa_!" The rest of the crowd then joined him in calling out the word. "What does it mean?" the Princess asked Missandei.

"It is old Ghiscari, Khaleesi. It means 'Mother'".

The Princess then crouched down beside her Dragons, whispering something to them before they took to the skies. She then made her way into the crowd, walking along as the former slaves reached out and touched her. For a moment, it seemed as if she disappeared into the throng, and Olene gripped the handle of her rapier. The Braavosi's concerns were for naught, however, as the Princess was then lifted onto the shoulders of some of the slaves. Olene smiled, and turned to look at Kovarro. The Dothraki Bloodrider smiled as well, and they both knew that Daenerys Stormborn was no longer a Princess or a Khaleesi; she was a Queen.

**Thus ends Part 3. As I said, things really got interesting. Unfortunately, we had to say goodbye to our favourite minstrel, but I suppose it was inevitable. Part 4, corresponding to Season 4 of the show, will be starting soon. Presently, I am in the middle of "Volume You" on GoT: Ascent, and I won't be getting to Volume 4 anytime soon. As a result, I will be directing the story as I believe it would go; so if there are any discrepancies between my version and what happens in the game, then that's why. I don't want to skip ahead and spoil anything in the game, so that's why I'm just going to write the direction I think it will go. Valar Morghulis! **


	43. Chapter 43 - Saying Goodbye

**Here marks the beginning of Part 4 of the story, which corresponds to Season 4 of the show. As I said before, I'm going to write the story in the direction that I believe it will go, so there may be discrepancies between the elements from GoT: Ascent that I've borrowed and the game itself. Once this part of the story is finished, everything will be of my own design, as neither the game nor the show have, as of yet, gotten to Season 5. Until then, enjoy! Valar Dohaeris!**

_The "Red Wedding", as it came to be called, resulted in an undisputed Lannister victory in the War of Five Kings. With Robb Stark and his army massacred at the Twins, The Lannisters now ruled unopposed. After the Red Wedding, the Tullies were attainted, losing their dominion over the Riverlands. House Frey became the new Lords of Riverrun, though the castle itself still maintained a Tully garrison. Septa Eleanor journeyed to the Twins with a number of Silent Sisters and an armed escort. Bandits and raiders became a common sight in the Riverlands, and the crops had been devastated during the war, making it a dangerous journey. _

_As for the Dragons, their growth accelerated even more. As the new year began, they had grown to the size of horses, requiring more and more quantities of_

"Maester!" a voice called as the door to the private study opened. Maester Lucas put down his quill and turned around to see a House Stormheart guard standing in the doorway. "Septa Eleanor's returned" the man explained. "She's got Kirth's body".

The young Maester nodded, and the man walked away. Turning back to the book he had been writing in for the past several hours, he closed it, taking a moment to run his hand over the crimson leather with the black, three-headed Dragon embossed in the centre. Holding the thick book against his chest, Maester Lucas stood up and walked out of his study.

_**In the Sept of Dragon's Rest…**_

__Drakon Blackfyre stared down at Kirth's lifeless body, watching as one of the Silent Sisters closed the minstrel's eyes and placed stones, painted to resemble open eyes, on top of them. Septa Eleanor had returned that morning, and Drakon and his family now watched as Kirth's corpse was prepared for a proper funeral. It was laid on top of an altar in the centre of the Sept, fully clothed, as the Silent Sisters went about their task.

"I remember when Kirth flirted with mother, all those years ago" Jayne quietly said through her tears. "You were so angry. It all seems so silly, now that he's gone". She then turned and hugged Rona, who hugged the young girl and comforted her.

Drakon said nothing, continuing to stare at his cousin's corpse. He felt Visenya take his arm, and he saw her smiling at him. He smiled in return, and proceeded to walk over to Kirth's body. The Silent Sisters had sewed up the wound on his neck, and it was obvious that someone had slit his throat. Drakon placed a hand on Kirth's forehead and whispered "We may have had our differences, but you were still my cousin. We were family, and we will always remember you".

The doors of the Sept opened, and Maester Lucas entered, carrying a thick book, bound in crimson leather with a black, three-headed Dragon embossed in the centre. "My lord" he said as he approached. "I came as soon as I heard".

Drakon nodded. "I see that you were busy" he commented, motioning to the book.

"I was writing down your family history" the Maester explained.

"Thank you" the muscular man replied. "Tell the rest of the Council that we'll meet later today". The Maester bowed his head before walking out, followed by Rona, who smiled at Jayne and the twins before joining him. Drakon then walked over to his children and embraced them, kissing the top of their heads.

_**At King's Landing…**_

__Ser Hugo drank from his water skin as he and a few dozen of his men awaited the arrival of Prince Doran Martell, the Lord of Sunspear and ruling Prince of Dorne. The Royal Wedding was only a fortnight away, and the Knight had been forced to greet the countless guests and important dignitaries as they flowed into the capital for days now.

"Are we going to waiting here all day?" one of the Goldcloaks asked.

"The Dornish do things in their own time" Ser Hugo replied. Taking another swig of water, he added "This is one of the Lords Paramount we're waiting for, so we'll wait for as long as we have to".

"Have you ever been to Dorne, Commander?" another Goldcloak asked.

Ser Hugo shook his head. "No. The closest I ever came was the Tourney at Storm's End, over twenty years ago. Oberyn Martell knocked me off my horse before I could even blink when we jousted". Suddenly, Tyrion Lannister clapped his hands, and Ser Hugo said "All right lads, try not to look bad; these are important guests". The forty or so Goldcloaks got into formation, standing at attention while Ser Hugo himself stood at the head. Ahead, Tyrion Lannister, his Sellsword companion, Bronn, and his quire, Podrick Payne, greeted the mounted Dornish noblemen. Ser Hugo gazed at their sigils, trying to locate the red sun pierced by a yellow spear that was House Martell's sigil. He couldn't find it, and frowned; obviously, Prince Doran hadn't yet arrived, or he had elected to not come at all. Regardless, the Dornish noblemen moved their steeds forward, and as his men moved to stand on either side of the road, Ser Hugo said "My lords, welcome to King's Landing; I am Ser Hugo, Lord Commander of the City Watch. My men and I will escort you to your quarters".

A short time later, the Knight came across a few of his men as they were tending to two Lannister men that were standing just outside one of Littlefinger's brothels. "What in the Seven Hells happened to him?" he asked, referring to the man whose wrist was bleeding.

"They ran afoul of Prince Oberyn" one of the Goldcloaks explained.

Ser Hugo's expression instantly darkened. "Prince Oberyn?"

"The fucking Dornishman stabbed me in the wrist!" one of the Lannister men exclaimed.

Turning to one of his men, Ser Hugo said "Go get him looked after". The two Goldcloaks nodded before taking the Lannister men away. The Knight pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed; Oberyn Martell was one of the most hot-headed men in all of Westeros, and whatever he didn't kill, he ended up fucking. His presence in King's Landing would certainly make things interesting, though how many people would die was entirely up for grabs. He then walked away from the brothel, suddenly in need of a drink.

_**To the East; on the road to Meereen…**_

__Olene walked up beside Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan as Her Grace examined a crucified child on one of the mile-markers between their current location and the great city of Meereen, the last in Slaver's Bay and the greatest. "There's one on every mile marker between here and Meereen" Ser Jorah said.

"How many miles are there between here and Meereen?"

"163, Your Grace" Ser Jorah replied.

"I'll tell our men to ride ahead and bury them" Ser Barristan offered. "You don't need to see this".

"You will do no such thing" the Targaryen girl commanded. "I will see each and every one of their faces. Remove her collar before you bury her".

Olene watched as a few of the Unsullied took down the little girl, and even she could feel the anger rising within her. She had been training in the Water Dance of Braavos ever since she was twelve years old; Syrio Forel, the First Sword to the Sealord of Braavos, had honed her to flow and dance through combat and not to let her emotions rule her actions, but even she felt furious at the wanton display of savage brutality. The Braavosi woman suddenly felt an arm around her waist, and saw Kovarro. She leaned over and kissed him, saying in Dothraki "The Masters are going to pay for this".

_**At Dragon's Rest…**_

__Drakon stared out the window of his room as the evening sun finally disappeared past the horizon, with his arms crossed. He then felt Visenya wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He turned his head and kissed her on the lips. "I'm sorry for your cousin" she said as Drakon turned his gaze back out the window.

"Walder Frey is going to pay" the muscular man swore. "He is going to burn in Dragonfire for what he did".

"And he will" Visenya soothed, turning him so that he was facing her. "But we have to be patient".

Drakon took her hand in his, kissing it before replying "I know".

"It won't be long before Rhaegon and Maelion will be large enough to ride. When that happens, we will be able to burn all our enemies. Those who have wronged the Black Dragons will pay with Blood and Fire".

Drakon cupped his beloved's cheek, gazing into her violet eyes. "I love you, sister" he said.

Visenya smirked. "I love you, too, brother". The two of them then embraced one another in a loving kiss.


	44. Chapter 44 - Another Wedding

_**To the northwest of Dragon's Rest…**_

__"Are they all in there?" Drakon asked from atop his horse. Beside him, his twin sons stood in full armour with their hands on their swords.

Ser Samwell nodded. "They are, my lord. The Grey Maw took up residence in Antlers after the death of Lady Buckwell. They've only been terrorizing the neighbouring villages for a few months now".

Drakon nodded. He dismounted his black horse, giving the reins to one of his guards. He then walked up to Edric and Edwyn, placing a hand on both of their shoulders. "Are you ready?" he asked. They both nodded. "Remember: if your opponent is larger and stronger than you, then be quick and agile. If he's quicker than you, then wait for him to come to you and don't tire yourself out". Drakon walked past his sons, to where Rhaegon and Maelion were waiting on the edge of the slope of the hill they were standing on. The Dragons were just as large as the horses, and their majesty was undeniable. Their bodies were comprised of thick muscle, conveying the natural power of the creatures. Rhaegon's silver scales gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight, as did Maelion's bronze scales, and both of their expansive, golden wings created large shadows on the ground when they were in the air. The horns along the backs of their skulls were longer, and more fierce-looking, with two on either side being longer than the rest and forming a kind of natural crown. Their teeth were half as long as his fingers, and the talons on their feet were longer and sharper than any other creature Drakon had ever encountered. He crouched down between them, and they perked up in response. He gently stroked the tops of their heads, and pointed to the village of Antlers as he said "_Dracarys_".

Rhaegon and Maelion then let loose powerful roars as they flared their neck frills before launching themselves into the air. Drakon's crimson cape, clasped to his shoulders and bearing House Stormheart's sigil, fluttered from the powerful gusts of air, and he stood up as the Dragons reached the village in moments. They both unleashed blasts of Dragonfire, setting several buildings aflame. The bandits known as the Grey Maw had forced the villagers out when they had taken up residence, so the only people in it were worthless criminals with enough blood on their hands to warrant the death that Drakon would deliver upon them. The muscular man turned to look at the ten knights, led by Ser Samwell and his Direwolf, Edric and Edwyn, and the fifty guardsmen that he had brought to bear. "When they come through the main gate, show no mercy. Slaughter them to the last man!"

He turned back to look at the village, and saw that a great deal of it was on fire. Rhaegon and Maelion continued to unleash torrents of Dragonfire, and as the village was built almost entirely out of wood, it burned rather easily. The main gate then opened, and several of the raiders started pouring out in an effort to escape with their lives. Drakon then bellowed with his Dragon horn, calling the Dragons back to him and signaling his men to attack. As Rhaegon and Maelion started flying back, the Blackfyre man drew his Valyrian Steel battle axe, _Dragonbreath_, and charged the bandits, along with his sons, knights, and guards.

As he came close, Drakon swung his axe in an arc, sinking it into the neck of the bandit closest to him. The small group of bandits was no match for them, and it quickly became obvious that they were completely outmatched. The muscular man glanced to his right, watching Ser Samwell's Direwolf leap into the air, tackling a bandit to the ground before she tore the man's throat out. Blocking a bandit's blade with the haft of his battle axe, Drakon struck the man in the face, knocking him to the ground. Taking a quick moment to appraise the slaughter, he brought his weapon down and killed the bandit.

_**At Dragonstone…**_

__Alvyn watched as several people were strapped to pyres, including Ser Axell Florent, brother to Stannis Baratheon's wife, Selyse. The pyres were set alight, and the Lady Melisandre called out "Hear us now" as those on the pyres began to burn. Beside Alvyn, Ser Davos, Stannis Baratheon, his wife, Selyse, and several men-at-arms of Dragonstone stood and watched. "Accept these tokens of our faith, my lord, and lead us from the darkness".

"Sire", Ser Axell Florent called to Stannis Baratheon, "I served you well". As the crowd began chanting, the old man said "Selyse, you're my sister! Tell him! Tell him!"

"Lord of Light, protect us, for the night is dark and full of terrors".

The flames then grew, and those strapped to the pyres screamed as they burned. Alvyn had to look away, and he heard Lady Selyse say to her husband "Did you see? Their souls. It was their souls. Our lord took them. Did you see?" The old merchant glanced at the burning pyres, his bones aching from the terrible sight. He then walked away with all the others, secretly wondering whether the terror in the night was the Lady Melisandre.

_**The following day; at King's Landing…**_

__Drakon rode through the gate into King's Landing with Visenya, flanked by Ser Prester and Ser Samwell; the stocky Knight's Direwolf remained at Dragon's Rest, but he was no less deadly without the large predator. On a similar note, Rhaegon and Maelion were also back at the keep, in specialized cells in the dungeons. Drakon's hair and beard were black once more, having had the Essosi dye applied to them before they had left. Behind the muscular man and his sister-wife, Edric, Edwyn, and Jayne rode in between Ser Lancel Manwoody, Ser Cleos Rivers, Gerold Halfhand, and Ser Oznack Grell. The group led their mounts through the streets until they came across a high-end stable, where they found Ser Hugo and a dozen Goldcloaks waiting for them. After dismounting, Drakon lifted Visenya off of her horse as the rest of their group dismounted.

"My lord" Ser Hugo greeted as he and the Goldcloaks bowed.

"Ser Hugo" Drakon replied, moving to embrace the man in a bear hug. "Lord Commander of the City Watch. How has your new appointment been treating you?"

The Knight shrugged. "It's certainly one of the most interesting positions I've held". He turned to regard Visenya, taking her immaculate hand and kissing it. "My lady, it's a pleasure to meet you".

"And you, as well, Ser Hugo" the silver-haired woman replied with a smile. "My husband has told me many great things about you".

Ser Hugo then regarded Drakon's children. He kissed Jayne's hand, saying "My lady, you grow more beautiful every day. And you two", he said, referring to the twins. "You're twice as big as last I saw you. You'll be taller and stronger than your father at this rate. While you're in the city, we'll have to spar".

Drakon glanced at the Goldcloaks that were present, recognizing a few faces; obviously, Ser Hugo had masterfully integrated the militia recruits into the City Watch without much difficulty. "Are you here to provide an official escort?"

"I am" the Knight replied. He motioned to his men, who assembled into straight lines on either side of the street. "My men and I will escort you to the Sept of Baelor".

Drakon held his arm out to Visenya, who took it with a smile. "We wouldn't want to miss the Royal Wedding, would we?"

In time, Drakon and his family were standing amongst the countless other nobles in the Sept of Baelor, close to the rear as Lord Mace Tyrell walked his daughter Margaery down the aisle. The soon-to-be Queen was looking resplendent in a gown with the finest embroidery that the muscular man had ever seen. She then took the arm of Joffrey, who currently bore an arrogant smirk as the two of them approached the High Septon. Joffrey wrapped a cloak with his House's colours around the Tyrell woman, and the High Septon wrapped a fine strip of cloth around their hands as he said "Let it be known that Margaery of House Tyrell and Joffrey of the Houses Lannister and Baratheon are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder".

The vicious boy then turned to the crowd and said "With this kiss, I pledge my love". He then kissed Margaery, and the crowd began applauding. Drakon sighed in exasperation as he and his family clapped, cursing the powers that gave life to the world for mocking the Iron Throne by having a psychotic bastard born of incest be named "King". With the ceremony now complete, all the lords of Westeros that had attended made their way to where the feast would be held.

"Lady Margaery looked very beautiful" Visenya noted as they walked along, the six knights that had accompanied them and Ser Hugo following along.

"She really was" Jayne agreed; she had long viewed the Tyrell woman as a role model of sorts. "I hope I'll look as beautiful as she is on my wedding day".

"She's certainly one of the most clever ladies I've ever seen" Drakon said.

"'Clever' isn't the word I'd use" Edric said, causing him and his brother to chuckle.

Ahead, they could see Lord Mace Tyrell approach Tywin Lannister, who was talking with his mother, the Lady Olenna. The Lord of Highgarden was handily rebuffed by his mother, who lived up to the name "Queen of Thorns". "For one of the most powerful lords in the Seven Kingdoms, Mace Tyrell isn't that clever, is he?" Visenya asked.

"He's a good man at heart", Drakon replied, "and a good father. He's just not very strong-willed". They then arrived at the large space where the feast was being held, which instantly became one of the grandest spectacles any of them had ever seen. "Ostentation for a Royal Wedding is one thing, but this is just wasteful" Drakon muttered.

"If the Lannisters can do one thing, without fail, it's never failing to remind the world that they have the most money" Ser Hugo sardonically remarked. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have to check in with my men and make sure that this feast is well-secured". He then bowed before walking off, leaving Drakon and his family to their devices.

"I never thought I'd be in the presence of all these High Lords" Edwyn commented as he gazed out at the panoply of lords and ladies.

"Be mindful" Drakon cautioned. "We've entered into the lions' den; this place is now one of the greatest battlefields in the Seven Kingdoms. Our enemies do not fight with swords or bows, but with secrets and intrigue". Ahead, Lady Olenna walked off to join those who sat with the boy Joffrey, and Tywin Lannister stood where he was, looking out at the guests for his grandson's wedding. Steeling himself more than he had for anything else, Drakon walked up to the old lion and said "Lord Tywin".

The older man turned to regard him. "Lord Stormheart" he returned.

"May I introduce my wife, Visenya of Lys, and my children, Jayne, Edric, and Edwyn".

"Charmed" the old lion replied. "Lord Stormheart, on behalf of His Grace, I would like to extend our gratitude for your assistance with the City Watch".

Drakon nodded. "I'm glad to help in any small way that I can. The preservation of the realm is my greatest concern".

The elder Lannister seemed to stare at the muscular man for a few moments. "Have we met before?"

Suddenly, the image of a terrifying lion sprang unbidden into Drakon's mind. For years after he had been taken to the Red Keep, he had suffered from nightmares, where a terrifying lion killed his mother and would have killed him, were it not for the intervention of a Dragon. As he grew older, Drakon learned from Ser Barristan that Tywin Lannister had killed his mother, and would have killed him, were it not for the intervention of then-Prince Aerys. The two men had been wearing armour that had displayed their House sigils, namely a lion and a Dragon, respectively. That, combined with a terrified toddler, had resulted in years of sleepless nights. "Unfortunately, I've never had the pleasure until now" Drakon replied. "Before His Grace, King Robert, made me a lord, I was no one of great import".

"Of course" the older man replied. He glanced at where the boy Joffrey sat, then said "Now, if you'll excuse me".

As Tywin Lannister walked away, Drakon felt every muscle in his body tense in quiet rage. "Calm yourself, my love" Visenya whispered in his ear as she squeezed his arm in support.

"I have wanted to kill that man more than any in my entire life" the muscular man muttered as he slowly eased his tense muscles.

"I know" his beloved replied, kissing his cheek. "His time will come".

"Everyone" the vicious bastard called. "The Queen would like to say a few words".

Drakon and his family clapped, along with everyone else in the crowd as Lady Margaery said "We are so fortunate to enjoy this marvelous food and drink. Not all among us are so lucky. To thank the gods for bringing the recent war to a just end, King Joffrey has decreed that the leftovers from our feast be given to the poorest in this city".

Drakon and the crowd applauded, and there was a general sense of love for the new Queen. "She's certainly shaping up to be a fine Queen" he commented as the vicious Cersei walked over and kissed the Tyrell woman.

"I could think of at least one" Visenya countered with a smirk.

"Who would win in a fight between Ser Loras and the Kingslayer?" Edric asked.

Drakon glanced to his right, and saw the two men talking with one another. The conversation did not appear to be entirely pleasant, and Edwyn replied "My money's on Ser Loras. Jaime's right hand is gone, so he's lost whatever skill he had".

Drakon glanced surreptitiously at Jayne, and he could see that she was staring longingly at the Knight of the Flowers. Like many young noble ladies, she had developed certain affections for the chivalrous Knight. Her feelings might evaporate if she ever found out about Ser Loras'… nighttime activities. "Do you wish to mingle with these important nobles?" he asked her.

"Can I father?" she asked, the excitement in her voice unmistakable.

"Yes" Drakon replied. "But watch yourself; these people spend their entire lives working to bring down any rivals through any means at their disposal". Jayne nodded, and Drakon turned to Ser Lancel Manwoody. "Go with her" he commanded, and the Dornishman bowed his head before accompanying the young woman. Jayne was clever; she would do well in such a place.

"Oh look", Visenya commented, "the lioness is trying to show her fangs. How cute".

Drakon turned to his left, and saw Cersei Lannister speaking with Grand Maester Pycelle. The blonde woman was clearly furious about something, and the pathetic snake of a Grand Maester meekly walked away. "Trying to re-assert her waning power. How cute, indeed".

"Everyone, silence!" the boy Joffrey called. "Clear the floor". Drakon and his family then took their seats, toward the back of the proceedings, as Joffrey said "There's been too much amusement here today. A Royal Wedding is not an amusement. A Royal Wedding is history. The time has come for all of us to contemplate our history. My lords, my ladies, I give you King Joffrey, Renly, Stannis, Robb Stark, Balon Greyjoy. The War of the Five Kings". As he spoke, the massive lion's head near the royal table opened its mouth, and five Dwarfs dressed in ridiculous and insulting costumes. The Dwarf dressed as Balon Greyjoy wore a Kraken, Stannis wore the Red Priestess, Joffrey wore a lion, Renly wore a bare-bottomed Loras Tyrell, and Robb Stark wore a wolf.

The Dwarfs then engaged in a completely juvenile jousting match with one another, "representing" the War of Five Kings in very poor taste. Glancing to his family, he could see the disgust on each of their faces, and he himself clenched his hands into fists. Eventually, the Dwarfs took a bow, and the boy Joffrey launched into a long, insulting tirade against his uncle, Tyrion Lannister. After several tense minutes, the largest pigeon pie Drakon had ever seen was brought forth. Joffrey took his Valyrian Steel sword, a gift from his grandfather earlier that day, and sliced the pie open. Drakon and his family dutifully clapped as Margaery fed the false King a piece of pie. He then forced his uncle to hand him his wine, proceeding to take a gulp. He then started coughing, more and more, until Margaery called out "He's choking!"

Drakon and his family stood up as people rushed to the aid of the false King. Drakon and his knights shoved their way to the front of the crowd, and he could see Joffrey coughing up blood onto the ground. As he was rolled onto his back, the muscular man looked to his right, and saw Ser Hugo along with a few of his Goldcloaks. The two men exchanged serious glances before they turned their attention back to the gasping boy. His face was turning a dark shade of purple, and it was clear that he wasn't getting any air. Drakon held Jayne close, kissing her head as she started crying from the horrible sight. A moment passed, and the false King Joffrey was dead. Everyone else in the crowd was sobbing and distraught, but Drakon felt a distinct, grim sense of satisfaction.

"He did this" Cersei said through her grief, turning to look at Tyrion Lannister. "He poisoned my son, your King. Take him. Take him! Take him! Take him!" A few of the Kingsguard then took the Imp, while Cersei looked down at her dead son. Visenya had been right; Drakon would be patient, and his enemies would destroy themselves.


	45. Chapter 45 - Queen of Meereen

"Where is his wife?" Cersei Lannister asked. "Where's Sansa?"

"Find her" Lord Tywin told Ser Hugo. "Bar the gates of the city. Seize every ship in the harbour. No one leaves the capital! No one!"

Ser Hugo nodded, turning around and leaving the sight of the feast along with his Goldcloaks. "Seal the gates! Lock down the harbour!" he ordered. "Find Sansa Stark, and bring her to me!" The Knight then entered into a brisk run through the crowded streets as the bells started ringing. All around him, the Goldcloaks spread through the city, searching for the Stark girl. Ser Hugo couldn't see her doing this; she may have been tortured and abused by Joffrey for the last few years, but she didn't seem the type to kill anyone.

"Commander!" a voice called, and Ser Hugo turned to see five of his men approaching.

"Did you find her?"

The other man shook his head. "There's no sign of her anywhere".

"Seven Hells!" Ser Hugo exclaimed, running his hands through his hair. Taking a deep breath, he said "Search every inch of this city until she is found". The Goldcloaks bowed before walking away, and the Knight asked himself "Where could she be?"

_**At the city gates…**_

__Drakon and his family arrived at the stable where their horses were tied up. It had been several hours since Joffrey's death, and Tywin Lannister had finally opened the city once it became clear that Sansa Stark was nowhere to be found. As he helped Visenya to mount her horse, Ser Hugo walked up to him.

"It seems you can't visit the city without someone important dying" he sardonically remarked. The Knight appeared tired; after searching the capital all morning, he appeared to be under the weather.

Drakon chuckled. "And yet, we are presented with an opportunity".

"My lord?" Ser Hugo asked.

"Joffrey was a vicious bastard who enjoyed doling out pain and misery to everyone he encountered. There was absolutely no possibility of plying his ear. Tommen, on the other hand, is a kind, sweet-natured boy who is susceptible to powerful people".

"I'm sensing that this is where I come in" Ser Hugo replied.

"You're the Lord Commander of the City Watch" Drakon explained. "You're one of the most important people in this city. That gives you access to the false King, access which you will use to our advantage. He will be mourning for his brother, which leaves him in the most vulnerable state he will ever be in. Speak with him; earn his trust, and present yourself as someone whom he can confide in".

"To what end?"

"Whatever end that best suits my position" Drakon replied. He then mounted his black horse. "I trust you, Ser Hugo. Don't let me down". The muscular man then kicked his horse forward, and he and his family were soon on their way, with their escort in tow.

_**At the Sept of Baelor…**_

__Ser Hugo stepped through the doors into the Sept of Baelor. In the morning, he had been present for Joffrey's wedding. Now, he was present for the boy's funeral. Nodding to one of the Kingsguard that guarded the doors, the Knight made his way to the centre of the large space, where Joffrey's corpse was displayed on an altar, with painted stones on his eyes and his Valyrian Steel sword on his chest. His brother, Tommen, and his mother, Cersei, were standing silently beside him. "Your Grace, Your Grace" he said, bowing to the two of them.

"Ser Hugo" Tommen replied, maintaining his gaze on Joffrey's body.

"I am truly sorry for your loss. My wife was killed four years ago, so I understand what you're going through".

The comment made the young boy look up at him. "Does it get any easier?"

"Not really. You try to move on, to keep living your life, but you never truly move past the death of a loved one. It changes you; some people let it break them, while others grow stronger because of it. I believe that you'll be one of the strong ones".

The young boy nodded, returning his gaze to Joffrey's corpse. "Thank you".

Ser Hugo heard steps from behind, and saw Lord Tywin entering the Sept. "Should you ever need to talk, you need only ask" he told Tommen. He then walked away, leaving the boy and his mother to their grief. "Lord Tywin".

"What news?" the old Lannister asked.

"Still no sign of Sansa Stark" Ser Hugo replied. "My men are still searching, but she most likely got out before we sealed the city".

Lord Tywin nodded. "You must be vigilant. You and your men must be ready to deal with any chaos the King's death might cause".

Ser Hugo nodded before walking off, leaving the Lannisters to grieve and plot their next move; hopefully, his words to Tommen would have the effect Lord Blackfyre wanted.

_**To the east; near the great city of Meereen…**_

__Olene gazed out at the great city of Meereen as Her Grace her army marched up to it. The city was the greatest in Slaver's Bay, and it was the final target of the Queen's wrath. They had been travelling for some time, and the Targaryen girl had personally seen each and every one of the crucified children that the Great Masters had nailed to each of the mile markers leading to Meereen. As Olene, Ser Jorah, Ser Barristan, Grey Worm, and Daario Neharis dismounted, a crowd gathered above the main gate, no doubt nervous about the army gathering in front of it.

Suddenly, the gate creaked open, and a single rider rode out. "Are they attacking?" the Queen asked.

"A single rider" Ser Jorah replied. A Champion of Meereen. They want you to send your own champion against him".

As the rider rode out, the crowd above the gate started cheering. The Champion then dismounted his horse, shouting in Valyrian. "What is he doing?" the Queen asked.

"I believe he means to…" Ser Barristan started to say, before the man took out his manhood and pissed on the ground in front of him, much to the delight of the crowd.

"He says that we are an army of men without man parts" Missandei translated. "He claims you are no woman at all, but a man who… hides his cock in his own asshole".

"Ignore him, Your Grace. These are meaningless words" Ser Barristan advised.

"They're not meaningless if half the city you intend to take is listening to them" Ser Jorah countered.

"I have something to say to the people of Meereen" Her Grace said. Pointing at the Champion, she said "First, I will need this one to be quiet. Do I have a Champion?"

"Allow me this honour, Mother of Dragons" Grey Worm said in Valyrian. "I will not disappoint you".

"You are the Commander of the Unsullied" Her Grace countered in Valyrian. "I cannot risk you".

"Your Grace, I've won more single combats than any man alive" Ser Barristan said.

"Which is why you must remain by my side".

"I've been at your side longer than any of them, Khaleesi" Ser Jorah said. "Let me stand for you today as well".

"You are my most trusted advisor, my most valued general, and my dearest friend. I will not gamble with your life".

"Let me fight for you, my Queen" Olene said, speaking up. "I am a Master Water Dancer, and I am of your Queensguard".

"I was the last to join your army" Daario Neharis cut in before Her Grace could reply. "I'm not your general or a member of your Queensguard or the Commander of your Unsullied. My mother was a whore. I come from nothing. And before long, I will return to nothing. Let me kill this man for you".

The Queen arched an eyebrow, clearly won over. "Very well" she replied. "You have quite an audience. Make it worth their while".

The Captain of the Second Sons took his place as the Champion of Meereen aimed his lance and charged toward him. Daario Neharis merely stood where he was, taking a moment to wink at the Queen. The Champion rode closer and closer, and Daario drew his knife. He then threw it into the horse's eye, causing it to tumble onto the ground and create a small cloud of sand. Before the Champion could do any more, Daario beheaded him. A number of archers along the wall then loosed a volley. The arrows struck the ground in front of him, but the Sellsword was unfazed as he took out his manhood and pissed on the sand.

The Queen then took a few steps forward. "I am Daenerys Stormborn" she called in Valyrian. "Your Masters may have told you lies about me, or they may have told you nothing. It does not matter. I have nothing to say to them. I speak only to you. First, I went to Astapor. Those who were slaves in Astapor, now stand behind me, free. Next I went to Yunkai. Those who were slaves in Yunkai, now stand behind me, free. Now I have come to Meereen. I am not your enemy. Your enemy is beside you. Your enemy steals and murders your children. Your enemy has nothing for you but chains and suffering, and commands. I do not bring you commands. I bring you a choice. And I bring your enemies what they deserve. Forward!" The Unsullied then brought forth a number of loaded catapults, and the Queen commanded "Fire!"

The catapults then fired, launching barrels of broken collars and chains at the city. The message would be very clear: slavery was now outlawed, and the Dragon was coming for the Masters.


	46. Chapter 46 - A Volunteer

_**At Dragon's Rest…**_

__"News from the east, my lord, sent from Olene" Rona reported. "Daenerys Targaryen has conquered the city of Meereen".

Drakon arched his eyebrows, glancing at Visenya. "And how did she accomplish such a thing?" he asked.

"Apparently, she instigated some sort of slave revolt from the inside. The city fell within hours" the grey-clad Spymaster replied.

Drakon nodded. "What else?"

"There is still no sign of Sansa Stark" Ser Samwell said. "Ser Hugo and the City Watch have found no trace of her. She's not been seen since Joffrey's death several months ago".

"I can't see a young girl like that poisoning the King" Maester Lucas said.

"Neither can I" Drakon agreed. "But the timing of her disappearance is curious".

"Aye", Simon said, pausing to take a sip from his wineglass, "but it is those whom we least suspect that are best-suited to strike".

"The lands formerly belonging to House Buckwell are now at peace, my lord" Ser Samwell reported. "With the Grey Maw slaughtered to the last man, and with Antlers burned to the ground, we now have direct control of those lands".

"Let's hope that it stays that way" Simon said.

"Brienne of Tarth has departed from the capital" Rona reported. "My birds tell me that Jaime Lannister gave her his Valyrian Steel sword and sent her on her way".

"And did your birds tell you why she left?" Visenya asked. "Or where she was going?"

The Spymaster sighed before replying "They did not, my lady. I only know that she left the city and has not been seen since".

Drakon nodded. "Whatever her mission, I expect it won't be a threat to us. We'll re-convene tomorrow". The advisors stood and bowed, leaving him with Visenya. He cupped her cheek and kissed her ruby lips.

"You have not been sleeping well" the silver-haired woman said. "You've been plagued with bad dreams". She then took his hand and placed it on her belly, which had begun to swell with new life.

Drakon clenched his jaw. "The last time this happened, I lost the woman I loved and the children she had been carrying". He gazed into his sister's violet eyes. "I cannot go through that again".

"You won't" Visenya soothed. "We are Blackfyres, Blood of the Dragon. We are descended from the Dragonlords of Old Valyria. I will never leave you".

They kissed once more, and Drakon proceeded to lead his sister-wife down into the keep's dungeons, where Rhaegon and Maelion were being held. Ever since they had grown to the size of horses, he had been forced to keep them down there for long periods of time, where they wouldn't be spotted by anyone until the proper time. With a torch in hand, Drakon descended below the surface, into specialized dungeons that he had been building over the past four years, including large cells that had been built with the Dragons in mind. They arrived after a few minutes, and Drakon handed the torch to Visenya. Rhaegon and Maelion immediately became aware of his presence, and came over to the bars of their individual cells. The muscular man opened Rhaegon's first, ushering the silver and gold Dragon out into the hallway. He crouched down as Rhaegon bared his fangs, flaring his neck frills. He suddenly snapped at Drakon, who didn't even flinch as he shouted "_Kelitis_!" Rhaegon instantly backed down, losing all of his aggression. Drakon then let Maelion out, and he proceeded to lead them out of the dungeons and into the open.

The muscular man glanced at Visenya, who smirked before crouching down beside the Dragons and saying "_Sovetis_". They then launched themselves into the sky, finally free of their confines. "They certainly love being out in the open" Visenya commented.

Drakon slid his arm around her waist and replied "They do. I imagine being locked in a cell for several months would make them glad to see the sun".

_**At Castle Black…**_

__Rolfe shoveled stew into his mouth, filling up after weeks of nearly starving to death North of the Wall. His brothers ate around him in the mess hall while Jon Snow spoke with Ser Alliser, the acting Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. Tensions were running high, with Mance Rayder and an army of Wildlings marching their way, while a band of the savages were raiding the villages directly behind them. "Brothers" he called. Not everyone's attention was drawn, until Grenn, one of the younger Rangers, pounded his cup onto a table. "I'm going Beyond the Wall to Craster's Keep. I'm going to capture the Mutineers hold up there or kill them. I'm asking for volunteers to come with me. There's 60 miles of wilderness between here and Craster's, and Mance Rayder has an army bearing down on us, but we have to do this. Our survival may depend on us getting to these mutineers before Mance does. They know the Wall. They know our defenses. If Mance learns what they know, we're lost. But if that's not enough, then consider this. If the Night's Watch are truly brothers, then Lord Commander Mormont was our father. He lived and died for the Watch and he was betrayed by his own men. Stabbed in the back by cowards. He deserved far better. All we can give him now is justice. Who will join me?"

For a long moment, the mess hall was silent. The prospect of marching north while an army of 100 000 marched south wasn't one many were willing to face. Grenn then stood up; he and Snow had struck up something of a friendship since they both took the black, and his skill would be needed. Edd then stood, along with three others. Rolfe, making up his mind, stood as well, nodding to Lord Snow. One of the newer recruits stood as well, and Snow said "I can't let a recruit come North of the Wall".

"Then let me say my vows" the other man countered. "If it's a fight you're heading for, then you need men who know how".

Snow glanced at Ser Alliser, who nodded his assent. "Thank you brothers".

**I apologize for the shortness of this chapter. This one corresponds to "Oathkeeper", the fourth episode of Season 4, and there wasn't much for my characters to do in this particular time frame. **


	47. Chapter 47 - Raid on Craster's Keep

_**At King's Landing…**_

__"May the Warrior grant him courage", the High Septon called, "and protect him in these perilous times. May the Smith grant him strength that he might bear this heavy burden. And may the Crone, she that knows the fate of all men, show him the path he must walk and guide him through the dark places that lie ahead. In the light of the Seven, I now proclaim Tommen of the House Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms". The High Septon then placed the crown of antlers on the young boy's head. "Long may he reign!"

"Long may he reign!" Ser Hugo called along with everyone else in the crowd. Though hopefully not too long, he thought to himself. Everyone in the crowd began cheering as the young Lannister boy stood tall and proud. A number of Goldcloaks stood at attention in the middle of the Great Hall, creating an aisle in the centre. People then started approaching the Iron Throne in a line, showing their respect to the new King. Ser Hugo walked up behind Varys, bowing to Tommen when it was his turn and saying "Your Grace". The Knight belatedly noticed as he walked away that Lord Tywin was standing directly next to the Iron Throne, no doubt in a subtle effort to show the influence he had over the young King.

_**At Meereen…**_

__"King Joffrey Baratheon is dead" Ser Jorah reported, much to everyone's shock. Olene stood behind the Queen as she and her advisors were gathered in a chamber at the top of the Great Pyramid. "Murdered at his own wedding.

"And we have taken the Meereenese Navy, Your Grace" Ser Barristan added.

"The Second Sons took the Meereenese Navy" Daario Neharis countered.

"Who told you to take the Navy?" the Queen asked.

"No one".

"So why did you do it?"

"I heard you liked ships" Daario explained.

"How many ships?" the Queen asked, her interest piqued.

"93, Your Grace" Ser Barristan replied.

"How many men can they carry?"

"9 300, not counting sailors".

"Would that be enough to take King's Landing?"

"The Lannisters have more" Ser Jorah countered.

"They've been fighting Joffrey's wars for years. They're tired, dispersed. And now their King is dead. 8 000 Unsullied, 2000 Second Sons sailing into Blackwater Bay and storming the gates without warning".

"It's hard to say" Ser Jorah said. "It could be enough. But we're not fighting to make you Queen of King's Landing. 10 000 men cannot conquer Westeros".

"The old houses will flock to our Queen when she crosses the Narrow Sea" Ser Barristan replied.

"The old houses will flock to whichever side they think will win", Ser Jorah countered, "as they always have". He then stood up. "There's other news. From Yunkai. Without the Unsullied to enforce your rule, the Wise Masters have retaken control of the city. They've re-enslaved the freedmen who stayed behind and sworn to take revenge against you". The Queen turned and took a step outside. "And in Astapor, the council you installed to rule over the city has been overthrown by a butcher named Cleon who's declared himself "His Imperial Majesty".

"Please leave me" the Queen said at last. As the advisors stood and walked out, the Targaryen girl turned to Olene and indicated that she should go as well. The Braavosi woman bowed before leaving Her Grace to speak with her most trusted advisor. It appeared as if the Queen's grand plan was starting to crack; only time would tell if it would break.

_**North of the Wall; near Craster's Keep…**_

__Rolfe sharpened his axe as he and the brothers of Snow's expedition waited for the chance to strike. The new recruit that had joined them was currently out scouting the keep, gauging what kind of resistance they might be facing. "Rolfe", Jon Snow called, "why do you always use axes?"

The veteran Ranger paused before looking at the younger man. "Before I took the black, I was a carpenter. My father taught me everything he knew, and I was pretty good at it. Eventually, a nobleman from the Reach hired me to make some carvings for his castle. And he had this daughter, a beautiful little thing, with an ass that would make you fall to your knees and thank the gods for making something so beautiful. So, with my endearing charm, I enticed this beautiful creature into a few passionate romps. And, as is common, she was with child. She managed to hide it from her father for a little while, but he found out. I swear, I was never as afraid of anything as I was of that man. Luckily, his daughter convinced him to be merciful, and I set out for the Wall the next day, forty years ago. I've never been good with a sword, but I sure know how to use an axe".

Jon Snow nodded, crossing his arms. "What happened to the baby?"

Rolfe smirked. "Or in other words, what happened to my bastard son?"

"Son?" Snow replied. "So she did have the baby?"

"Aye, she did. I never heard much, seeing as we're not supposed to keep in touch with our families, but from what little I could gather, he did pretty well for himself. I hear that he's a lord down south. Do you remember Derryk, the bastard with the warhammer? My boy's the one who sent him to us".

Suddenly, the recruit came out of the bushes. "Brothers" he called.

"You do move quiet" Grenn noted.

"How many?" Jon Snow asked.

"Eleven men" the recruit replied. "Most of them already drunk. No guards posted. They don't seem to have a care in the world. We'll carve them up like walnut pie".

"Karl was the top paid cutthroat in Flea Bottom" Grenn said. "I've seen what he can do with a knife".

"Have you seen what I can do with a knife?"

"Not yet" Grenn replied, chuckling.

"There's a hut on the west side of the keep. We should steer clear of it".

"Why?" Jon Snow asked.

"They've got some hounds chained up inside. Closer we can get without the dogs sniffing us, the better".

"New moon tonight" Grenn noted, looking up.

"Get some rest. We move at sundown".

A few hours later, the sun finally set, and the time came to deal with the traitorous mutineers. Rolfe charged with his brothers, shouting at the top of his lungs as he threw himself against his enemy. One of the mutineers said "You!"

"Aye, me!" Rolfe replied, before sinking his axe into the man's skull. Another mutineer tried taking his head off with a slice, but the veteran Ranger ducked below it in time. He proceeded to attack with an upward swing, slicing the man's jaw in half and knocking him to the ground. Suddenly, he found himself on the ground as someone tackled him to the ground. Gritting his teeth, Rolfe struck the man on the head several times with his elbow, forcing the man to lose his grip eventually. Forcing the man to stand, the bearded Ranger threw the mutineer against one of the wooden spikes Craster had built around his home, impaling the man clean through the chest.

Eventually, as the rush of battle faded, the battle was over. All the mutineers were dead, along with half of the brothers that had volunteered to come on this little excursion. Rolfe carried one of them over to where the others were gathered, in front of the keep. It was then decided, by Craster's wives and the brothers, to burn down the keep, and everything it stood for. Rolfe took great pleasure in lighting the structure with a torch and watching it burn to the ground.


	48. Chapter 48 - New Life

_**At Dragon's Rest…**_

__Drakon paced back and forth in the hallway outside his room, hearing the moans coming from within. Ser Samwell, Nymeria, and the twins were there with him; Rhaegon and Maelion were flying overhead, enjoying fresh air while every possible scenario played out in his head. He and Visenya had been watching Edric and Edwyn sparring when she had suddenly gone into labour. She was in their room even now, with Maester Lucas, Rona, and Jayne, while Drakon was forced to wait outside. A powerful shriek of pain sounded, and the muscular man turned to look at the door, deciding to go in there himself.

Ser Samwell stopped him with a hand on his chest. "It will be all right, my lord" the stocky Knight said in his deep voice. "Your wife is in good hands".

"I wasn't here last time" Drakon growled as he turned around and continued his pacing.

"It's okay, father" Edric said.

"Rona and I have had people testing all food and drink in the keep over the last year" Ser Samwell assured him. "What happened to your wife years ago will not happen again, you have my word".

Drakon eventually stopped, placing his hands against the wall and sighing.

_**At King's Landing…**_

__"Your Grace" Ser Hugo said, bowing to the boy as he approached with two of his Kingsguard.

"Ser Hugo" Tommen replied. "Shouldn't you be at the trial?"

The Knight shook his head. "My men have everything under control, and to tell the truth, I feel that I am of more use elsewhere".

The boy King nodded. "Would you care to join me?"

"Of course" Ser Hugo replied, bowing his head. He then walked alongside Tommen as they both made their way down the hallway. "I'm sorry about all this business with your uncle".

"Thank you" the boy replied. After months of effort and discussion, the young Lannister had finally started to look on Ser Hugo as a confidant.

"Your brother's death was a terrible tragedy. Having your mother accuse your uncle of the murder must weigh heavily on you. Do you think Tyrion did it?"

"I honestly don't know" Tommen replied, shaking his head. "The trial will reveal the truth".

"Of course" the Knight replied. He knew that Cersei had rigged the trial so that a guilty verdict was all but certain; the truth didn't matter. They then rounded a corner, and came upon a room that opened into a balcony, with the sun shining down on it. "If I may be so bold: would you care to spar, Your Grace?"

He could see that the boy was considering the offer, and he could also see the two Kingsguard exchanging glances. "Very well" Tommen said at last.

Ser Hugo then walked over to one of the far walls and grabbed two wooden swords from their rack. He handed it to the boy King, after he handed his crown to one of the Kingsguard. "Have you sparred before, Your Grace?"

"Not really, no".

Ser Hugo nodded. "I'll go easy on you, then".

That afternoon, Ser Hugo stood in the Great Hall as the trial resumed after a short recess. As expected, Tyrion Lannister was surely going to suffer whatever fate his sister planned once the guilty verdict was passed. The gathered lords and ladies took their seats, and Ser Hugo saw the Kingslayer briefly speak to his brother as Lord Tywin took his seat on the Iron Throne. Beside him sat Oberyn Martell and Mace Tyrell, the other two judges. "The Crown may call its next witness" the elder Lannister called. A foreign woman then entered, making her way to the witness stand. Ser Hugo thought she looked familiar, and he could see that the Imp clearly recognized her. "State your name" Tywin Lannister said.

"Shae" the woman replied.

"Do you swear by all the gods that your testimony will be true and honest?"

"I swear it".

"Do you know this man?" the elder Lannister asked, and Ser Hugo had a feeling that she most certainly did.

"Yes", the woman replied, glancing at the Imp. "Tyrion Lannister".

"How do you know him?"

"I was handmaiden to his wife Lady Sansa".

"This man stands accused of murdering King Joffrey. What do you know of this?"

"I know that he's guilty" she replied, eliciting gasps from the crowd of nobles. "He and Sansa planned it together". There was a bit of murmuring and conversation, until Tywin called for silence. "She wanted revenge for her father, her mother, her brother. She blamed their deaths on the King. Tyrion was happy to help. He hated Joffrey. He hated the Queen. He hated you, my lord. He stole poisons from the Grand Maester's chamber to put in Joffrey's wine".

"How could you possibly know all this?" Oberyn Martell asked. "Why would he reveal such plans to his wife's maid?"

"I wasn't just her maid" the foreigner explained. "I was his whore".

"I beg your pardon?" Mace Tyrell asked. "You said you were his…"

"His whore".

"How did you come to be in his service?" Tywin Lannister asked.

"He stole me. I was with another man, a Knight in your lordship's army. But when Tyrion arrived at the camp, he sent one of his cutthroats into our tent. He broke the Knight's arm and brought me to Lord Tyrion. 'You belong to me now' he said. 'I want you to fuck me like it's my last night in this world'". The crowd started laughing derisively, until Lord Tywin called for silence.

"And did you?" Prince Oberyn asked.

"Did I what?" the foreigner asked, confused.

"Fuck him like it was his last night in this world".

"I did everything he wanted. Whatever he told me to do to him. Whatever he felt like doing to me. I kissed him where he wanted. I licked him where he wanted. I let him put himself where he wanted. I was his property. I would wait in his chambers for hours so he could use me when he was bored. He ordered me to call him 'My Lion', so I did. I took his face in my hands and said 'I am yours and you are mine'".

"Shae" Tyrion meekly called. "Please don't".

"I am a whore" Shae countered. "Remember?" She then turned back to the judges. "That was before he married Sansa. After that, all he wanted was her. But she wouldn't let him into her bed. So he promised to kill King Joffrey for her".

As the crowd began to murmur, Tyrion said "Father, I wish to confess. I wish… to confess".

"You wish to confess?"

Tyrion then turned to the gathered lords and ladies. "I saved you" he angrily spat. "I saved this city and all your worthless lives. I should have let Stannis kill you all".

My thoughts exactly, Ser Hugo thought to himself.

"Do you wish to confess?" Lord Tywin asked his son.

"Yes, father. I'm guilty. Guilty. Is that what you want to hear?"

"You admit you poisoned the King?"

"No, of that I'm innocent. I'm guilty of a far more monstrous crime. I am guilty of being a Dwarf".

"You are not on trial for being a Dwarf" Tywin retorted.

"Oh, yes, I am. I've been on trial for that my entire life".

"Have you nothing to say in your defense?"

"Nothing but this: I did not do it. I did not kill Joffrey, but I wish that I had. Watching your vicious bastard die gave me more relief than a 1 000 lying whores. I wish I was the monster you think I am. I wish I had enough poison for the whole pack of you. I would gladly give my life to watch you all swallow it!"

"Ser Meryn!" Lord Tywin called, standing up. "Ser Meryn! Escort the prisoner back to his cell!"

"I will not give my life for Joffrey's murder. And I know I'll get no justice here. So I will let the gods decide my fate. I demand a Trial by Combat".

The crowd then erupted into angry shouts while those at the head of the Great Hall were stunned silent by the Imp's declaration. Ser Hugo saw Oberyn Martell lean forward, appearing very interested, while the Knight himself was still getting over the initial shock. Cersei and Lord Tywin looked just about ready to strangle their little relative. It would seem that the die had been cast.

_**At Dragon's Rest…**_

__Drakon opened the door, and beheld Visenya on their bed, holding a small bundle of cloth in her arms. It had been an entire day since his wife had first gone into labour, and the muscular man would have broken the door down eventually. Beside the bed stood Maester Lucas, Rona, and Jayne, but his attention was entirely focused on the crying baby in Visenya's arms. He sat on the edge of the bed, and looked down at the tiny child wrapped in cloth. It stopped crying and looked back at him, smiling. "My son" Drakon said, almost in disbelief. He hadn't felt this way since the twins had been born, and he could honestly say that it was one of the greatest moments of his life. The boy had a few wispy silver hairs on its head, and he stared up at Drakon with brilliant violet eyes. The muscular man then looked at Visenya, who was covered in sweat and out of breath.

He kissed her on the cheek, and she looked down at the boy and said "Daemon Blackfyre".

Drakon smiled, feeling it entirely appropriate that his son would be named after the founding member of their House.

"Congratulations, my lord" Maester Lucas said, washing his hands in a bowl. Jayne and the twins then walked over to the other side of the bed, smiling as they stared at their new sibling.

Suddenly, a servant entered the room, but was stopped by Ser Samwell. "A-Apologies, my lord" the man said, holding up a letter. "A raven came, for mistress Rona".

Rona walked over to the man, taking the letter. She read it, taking a few moments. Suddenly, her mouth fell open in surprise.

"What is it?" Drakon asked.

"It's from Alvyn, my lord" the grey-clad Spymaster replied. "Stannis Baratheon and all of his men-at-arms have sailed from Dragonstone".

The muscular man stood up. "Are they going to attack King's Landing again?"

Rona shook her head. "Alvyn sent this message from Braavos. He says that Stannis has taken his entire family and all the men still loyal to him and sailed north".

Drakon clenched his fist, a sense of opportunity washing over him. "This is a chance!" he exclaimed. Turning to Ser Samwell, he asked "How many ships can we spare right now?"

"Four, my lord" the stocky Knight replied.

"And how many men can they carry?"

"400, not counting sailors".

Drakon smiled. "Gather 400 men and have them meet me at the docks". Ser Samwell bowed and walked away with Nymeria in tow. The muscular man turned to look at Visenya, who smiled and nodded her assent. Drakon then walked out of his room, feeling a surge of excitement; his vengeance against the Lannister was close at hand, he could feel it in his bones.


	49. Chapter 49 - Dragonstone

_**At Castle Black…**_

__"Mance's army was closing in on Craster's Keep when we left" Jon Snow told the gathered brothers in the mess hall while Rolfe scarfed down a questionable stew. It could hardly be called "food", but after forty years of living on the stuff, the Ranger had grown to see it as a delicacy. "We saw their campfires from Osric's Hill. They'll reach the Wall before the next full moon".

"I'm surprised you didn't ride over and say hello" Janos Slynt derisively remarked. "The King-Beyond-the-Wall is your old friend, isn't he?"

"We need to prepare" Jon Snow warned.

"We've been preparing" Ser Alliser countered.

"We should seal the tunnel" Snow suggested, eliciting a murmur from the others. "Plug it with rocks and ice. Flood it and let it freeze".

"And how would we range north?" Ser Alliser asked.

"We wouldn't".

"You would cut off our legs, pluck out our eyes, leave us cowering behind the Wall hoping for the storm to pass?"

"We can't defend the gate against 100 000 men" Grenn countered.

"This castle has stood for thousands of years. The Night's Watch has defended her for thousands of years. And in all those centuries, we have never sealed the tunnel".

"Have you ever seen a giant, Ser Alliser?" Snow asked. "I have. The tunnel's gate won't stop them".

"The bars on those gates are four inches thick. Cold-rolled steel".

"And they won't stop them" Snow countered.

"Remind me which order you belong to, Snow".

"The Stewards" Snow replied.

"Are the Stewards responsible for maintaining the tunnel?"

"No".

"Who would that be?"

"The Builders".

"Ah, the Builders. First Builder Yarwyck, Lord Snow here recommends sealing the tunnel, leaving us unable to carry out our duties as sworn brothers of the Night's Watch. Do you agree with him?"

Yarwyck nervously glanced at Ser Alliser before replying "No".

"Given your deep knowledge of the Wildling army, Lord Snow, you and Tarly will take night duties atop the Wall until the full moon. Moving on…"

_**In Blackwater Bay; near Dragonstone…**_

__Drakon struck the man in the face with the haft of his Valyrian Steel battle axe before sinking one of the heads into his chest. As the corpse slumped onto the floor, the muscular man took a moment to see the fight all around him. He and 300 of his men had infiltrated Dragonstone, the ancestral seat of House Targaryen and current seat of Stannis Baratheon, by way of secret tunnels that led to one of the small villages on the island. Alvyn's information had been correct; Stannis had indeed taken nearly all of his men and left, for a token force was trying to resist them at the moment. Having read about and studied Dragonstone during his childhood, Drakon knew the island fortress inside and out. Another of Stannis' men charged him, and the muscular man steeled himself. He ducked below the man's sword before cutting his leg clean off with his battle axe. As the man screamed in agony, Drakon swung his weapon back and imbedded one of the heads into his opponent's back, killing him instantly. The Blackfyre man was then shoved against a wall by a shield. Turning to look at his newest attacker, he saw a man wielding a sword and shield, with a thick beard and scars across his face. All around them, Drakon's men were slaughtering the meagre garrison Stannis had left behind, and he could tell that this man must be the commander. "Any last words, before you die?"

The other man cracked his neck. "Fuck you!" he spat as he launched into an attack. He brought his sword down in an overhead chop, one that Drakon blocked with the haft of _Dragonbreath_. The muscular man then shoved his opponent's sword back, only to be shoved to the ground by his shield in turn. Rolling to the side, Drakon avoided another attack as he stood back up. Shouting, he sank his battle axe into his opponent's shield; unfortunately, his weapon became stuck, and the other man wrenched the axe from his grasp. Ducking below a sword slice, Drakon threw his body against his opponent, tackling him against a wall. He then drew his Valyrian Steel dagger from the sheath on the back of his belt, stabbing the man in the neck. The bearded man spat blood on Drakon's face before finally dying moments later.

As Drakon withdrew his dagger, one of his men approached him and said "My lord. We've taken the castle".

The muscular man wiped the blood from his dagger on his dead opponent's sleeve, smiling in satisfaction as he said "Search every inch of the castle, and make sure that all of Stannis' men are dead". The guard bowed before he and the others went about securing the castle. Drakon sheathed his dagger before retrieving _Dragonbreath_. He then took the time to examine his surroundings; since he was a boy, he had dreamed of visiting the ancient fortress of Dragonstone, to walk the halls that Aegon the Conqueror had walked before the Conquest. Making his way through the halls and corridors, Drakon eventually arrived at the Chamber of the Painted Table. The sounds of crashing waves and seagulls came in through the open wall at the far end, but his attention was focused on the table in the centre of the room. The Painted Table was one of the greatest Targaryen relics in all of Westeros; exquisitely carved in painstaking detail to resemble the continent, it was the greatest map of Westeros in the world. Drakon slowly walked along its side, dragging his fingers across its surface.

"My lord" a voice called, breaking his reverie.

"What is it?"

"We've searched the castle, and all of Stannis' men are dead".

Drakon nodded. "Have 200 men remain here as a garrison along with two of the ships. I'll take the remaining 100 men on the last ship and sail for Claw Isle".

The man bowed before walking away. Drakon had sailed from Dragon's Rest three days prior with four ships and 400 men; he had left 100 men at Driftmark, the castle of House Velaryon situated on the island of the same name, along with one ship. Now that he had taken Dragonstone, he would take the remaining 100 men and sail for Claw Isle, the last island in Blackwater Bay. Once all three islands were secure, he could begin moving more men and supplies to them. Several problems would be solved with this move: he would secretly resume trade from the east and keep it all for himself and the Lords of the Point, he would have secure refuges should the need arise, and he would have a place where Rhaegon and Maelion could grow as large as possible without any prying eyes. With a deep breath, he turned around and walked out of the chamber.


	50. Chapter 50 - The Mountain and The Viper

_**At Meereen…**_

__Olene stood behind Her Grace, opposite Missandei, as she sat in her throne. A few Unsullied were posted around the impressive throne room, and Ser Barristan and Grey Worm stood a few steps down from the Queen. Ser Jorah then entered, and the Braavosi woman knew that this would be an ugly confrontation. Ser Barristan had been made aware of the fact that Ser Jorah had been spying on the Queen during the year they met, and now the disgraced Knight would face the consequences. "Why did the Usurper pardon you?"

"If we could speak alone" Ser Jorah said.

"No, speak to me here" the Targaryen girl countered. "Explain it to me".

"Who do you think sent this to Meereen? Who profits? This is the work of Tywin Lannister. He wants to divide us. If we're fighting each other, we're not fighting him".

"The pardon was signed the year we met" the Queen said. "Why were you pardoned? Unless you're saying this document was forged".

"It is not forged" Ser Jorah replied.

"Why, then?"

"I sent letters to Varys, the Spymaster of King's Landing".

"What was the content of these letters?"

"Information" the Knight replied.

"What information?" the Queen pressed.

"When you and Viserys arrived in Pentos. His plan to marry you to Khal Drogo. When you were married. When your brother died".

"You told them I was carrying Drogo's child?"

"I…" the Knight started to say.

"Yes or no?" the Queen asked, cutting him off.

"Khaleesi".

"Don't call me that. Did you tell them I was carrying Drogo's child?"

"Yes" Ser Jorah replied.

The Queen then stood. "That wine merchant tried to poison me because of your information". As she spoke, she slowly approached her treacherous advisor, and Olene followed close behind.

"I stopped you from drinking his wine" the Knight countered.

"Because you knew it was poisoned".

"I suspected".

"You betrayed me from the first". Olene could sense the anger and the sense of betrayal in her Queen's voice, and the Braavosi knew that it was the shock of learning that Jorah had covered up his betrayal for all this time that hurt her the most.

"Forgive me" Ser Jorah begged, getting on his knees. "I never meant… Please, Khaleesi, forgive me".

"You sold my secrets to the man who killed my father and stole my brother's throne, and you want me to forgive you?"

"I have protected you. Fought for you. Killed for you. I have loved you".

"Love?" the Queen asked, not able to even look at the man. "Love? How can you say that to me? Any other man, and I would have you executed. But you, I do not want you in my city dead or alive. Go back to your masters in King's Landing. Collect your pardon if you can".

Ser Jorah then tried to take the Queen's hand, but she pulled away as Olene, Grey Worm, and Ser Barristan started to draw their blades.

"Don't ever presume to touch me again or speak my name. You have until dusk to collect your things and leave this city. If you're found in Meereen past break of day, I'll have your head thrown into Slaver's Bay. Go. Now".

Jorah then bowed his head and walked away, forced to abandon everything he knew in disgrace once more. Olene didn't know whether to pity the man or despise him.

_**At King's Landing…**_

__Ser Hugo watched from his seat as two Lannister men brought out the Imp. The crowd started shouting and cursing his name as the little Lannister was brought in chains to the edge of the arena where his Trial by Combat would take place. Oberyn Martell drank from a cup of wine with his paramour ever at his side. The announcement that the Red Viper of Dorne would be Tyrion's Champion had been a complete shock to everyone in the city, and quite a crowd had gathered to witness the Dornishman's upcoming fight with the Mountain. Any other man Ser Hugo would have instantly written off, but he had to admit that Oberyn just might have a chance.

The Mountain then entered the arena, dressed in full plate armour and greeted by a cheering crowd. Ser Hugo looked at the man as what he was: a mad dog who butchered babies and helpless victims on Tywin Lannister's orders. A trumpet sounded, and Grand Maester Pycelle slowly stepped into the centre of the arena. "In the sight of gods and men, we gather to ascertain the guilt or innocence of this… man Tyrion Lannister. May the Mother grant them mercy. May the Father give them such justice as they deserve. And may the Warrior guide the hand…" He was cut off as the trumpet sounded once more, signaling the beginning of the Trial.

The Mountain drew a greatsword with one hand, while Oberyn Martell caught the spear that his squire threw to him before moving closer to the crowd with a dazzling display of skill with the weapon, eliciting a few cheers from the crowd. The Dornish Prince then turned to the Mountain, asking him a question before the monstrous brute charged. After a few strikes and parries, Oberyn backed off and said "I am the brother of Elia Martell. And do you know why I have come all the way to this stinking shit-pile of a city? For you". The two men then exchanged a few more blows before Oberyn slid back. As he walked in a circle around his opponent, he said "I'm going to hear you confess before you die. You raped my sister. You murdered her. You killed her children. Say it now and we can make this quick".

The Mountain growled as he charged, trying his best to land a blow, but to no avail. Oberyn danced around him, knocking his helmet off in the process. "Say it" the Prince taunted as he parried several more attacks. "You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children". The Mountain charged once more, utilizing brute force and straightforward attacks while Oberyn continued to dance and dodge his way around him, taunting the Knight all the while about his murder of Princess Elia and her children. The Mountain eventually broke the Dornishman's spear, forcing him on the defensive until his squire tossed him another. Oberyn landed on his back, and avoided a few attacks before managing to stab the Mountain in the chest with his spear. He then backed away as he shouted "You raped her! You murdered her!" The Mountain charged, and Oberyn manoeuvred around him, slicing the back of his leg in the process. As the freakishly large man fell to his knees, Oberyn charged him, shouting "You killed her children!" as he leaped and pierced the Mountain in the chest.

Oberyn then withdrew his spear, voicing his desire for the Mountain to confess to his crimes before he died. The Dornish Prince walked in a circle around the man several times, shouting and demanding a confession that Tywin Lannister gave the order to murder his sister and her children. Suddenly, the Mountain tripped Prince Oberyn before grabbing him and knocking his teeth out with a single punch. The large man then rolled over, proceeding to gouge his opponent's eyes out. As Oberyn screamed in agony, the Mountain sadistically said "Elia Martell. I killed her children. Then I raped her! Then I smashed her head in like this!" He then used all of his strength to completely crush Oberyn's head in, splattering his brains all over the arena floor, eliciting several wails from the crowd.

"The gods have made their will known" Lord Tywin said, standing up. "Tyrion Lannister, in the name of King Tommen of the House Baratheon, First of His Name, you are hereby sentenced to death".


	51. Chapter 51 - Destiny's Edge

_**At Castle Black…**_

__Rolfe shoveled spoonfuls of stew into his mouth; the nervousness of the brothers in the mess hall was palpable, and everyone was slightly on edge. "Oi" one of the younger brothers called to him from the table beside him. "Why do you always eat so much? You trying to compete with Tarly?"

Rolfe swallowed before replying "We don't have that long a lifespan. We'll die from the cold, a Wildling's spear, starvation, or even old age, if you might call that lucky. With those kind of odds, I always eat like it's my last meal in this world. Now shut up and let me enjoy it". He then returned to his stew, while the other brothers did the same. Rolfe had sharpened his axes to very sharp and fine edges, and he had been sparring and practicing all day. He was as prepared as he could be, thus his possible final meal. Suddenly, the horn blew twice from atop the Wall, and everyone stood up from their tables and walked outside, preparing for the upcoming assault. Rolfe looked up, and saw the orange glow of a massive fire in the sky, above the Wall as two more horn blasts sounded.

"We're all gonna die!" one of the younger brothers cried.

Rolfe walked over to him, grabbing the boy by the scruff of his neck and saying "Aye, we might. But if you're going to die, then at least do us the courtesy of taking some of those fucking Wildlings with you!" The bearded Ranger then roughly shoved the boy along. Suddenly, two horn blasts came from the castle's gate. "Oh, fuck me!" Rolfe growled. "They're coming at us from down below, brothers!"

"Brothers!" Ser Alliser suddenly called. "100 generations have defended this castle. She's never fallen before. She will not fall tonight. Those are Thenns at our walls. They eat the flesh of the men they kill. Do you want to fill the belly of a Thenn tonight?"

"No!" Rolfe shouted with the others as he drew his twin axes.

"Tonight we fight! And when the sun rises, I promise you, Castle Black will stand! The Night's Watch will stand!" The gate finally broke, and as the Wildlings began to pour through, Ser Alliser shouted "With me now! Now with me!"

Rolfe then charged with his brothers, brandishing his honed and deadly axes as he tackled a Thenn against a wall. The Ranger sank one of his axes into the bald cannibal's skull, killing him instantly. Turning around, he attacked a nearby Wildling, maintaining a constant series of attacks in an effort to keep his opponent on the defensive. After a few minutes, Rolfe saw something shooting down to the ground. Kicking the Wildling back, he had the distinct pleasure of seeing the man skewered by an arrow as long as a horse. A Thenn tried to take his head off with a battle axe, but Rolfe ducked below it. He then savagely hacked at the man's neck, taking his head off moments later. The battle raged on all around him, and Rolfe could see another Thenn running up some nearby stairs. The Ranger hurled one of his axes at the cannibal, watching as the weapon struck the Wildling in the back and caused him to fall back to the muddy ground. Retrieving his weapon, Rolfe tackled another Wildling to the ground. As he sank an axe into the man's face, the Ranger saw Tarly killing a Thenn with a crossbow bolt at close range; perhaps the fat boy wasn't completely useless after all.

Hearing a deep, merry laugh coming from nearby, Rolfe turned around and saw Tormund Giantsbane up on the walkway. Steeling himself, the Ranger ran up the closest stairs, taking a moment to kill a Thenn that got in his way, before he shouted and charged at the Wildling chieftain. He swung an axe horizontally, but the red-haired Wildling ducked below it and followed up with a slice of his own. Barely dodging the attack, Rolfe tried to bring both axes down onto Tormund's head, but his opponent blocked them with his shortsword. Gritting his teeth as he matched his strength against the Wildling's, the Ranger head-butted the other man before throwing all of his weight into him, tackling him into a wall. Rolfe capitalized on the move by sinking an axe into Tormund's shoulder.

Suddenly, Rolfe's shoulder flashed with pain as an arrow pierced it. He growled, and Tormund pushed him away before slicing his stomach with the very tip of his sword. The Ranger fell to his knees as blood started to fill his mouth, and he stared defiantly at the Wildling bastard. The red-haired man brought his sword down in an overhead chop, but Rolfe caught the blade with his hand. Spitting blood into Tormund's face, he proceeded to tackle him to the side, sending them both tumbling down the stairs and onto the bloody mud. Rolfe punched his opponent in the face before he was thrown to the ground. He watched as Tormund stood up and grabbed his sword before two arrows suddenly pierced his back. The Wildling cried out in pain, and Rolfe suddenly felt hands roughly pulling him back. Taking a moment to look around, the bearded Ranger saw that the battle was pretty much over, and most of the surviving brothers were now gathered around Tormund, who flailed about like a crazed beast.

"Tormund" a voice called, and Rolfe saw Jon Snow approaching, appearing just as battered as he was. "It's over. Let it end".

"This is how a man ends" the Wildling spat as he tried to attack a few of the nearby brothers. He never got another chance, as Snow took a crossbow and shot him in the leg, bringing him to his knees.

The bastard then kicked Tormund's sword out of his hands before turning to one of the brothers on the stairs. "Put him in chains. We'll question him later".

As Tormund Giantsbane was roughly pulled back, he stared daggers at Jon Snow before shouting "I should have thrown you from the top of the Wall, boy!"

Belatedly, Rolfe heard Snow mutter "Aye. You should have".

Rolfe then let his head fall back as he breathed a sigh of relief. The battle was finally over, and they had survived the night. Gods help them all come morning.

_**At Dragon's Rest…**_

__Drakon watched as two men opened the crate before him, on the dock of Dragon's Rest. Night had fallen some time ago, and the muscular man had an arm wrapped around Visenya, whose silver gown glittered in the light of the torches his men were carrying. A gentle breeze lightly caressed them and made the flames of the torches flicker and dance. "And what might this be, my love?"

The silver-haired woman wiped a strand of hair out of her eye. "Ten years ago, Gerion Lannister ventured to Old Valyria, in an effort to reclaim his family's ancestral Valyrian Steel greatsword, Brightroar. He never returned".

Drakon glanced at his wife. "I suspect there's more to it than that".

Visenya smirked. "He did, in fact, venture into Valyria, and he miraculously found his family's sword. His ship tried to make harbour in Volantis before returning home, so I made sure that he and those of his crew that went into the Smoking Sea with him were never heard from again". Drakon chuckled, and she continued. "When Tywin Lannister looked into his brother's disappearance, the crewmembers who deserted him and the world believed that he had been lost on a fool's quest".

Drakon crouched down and reached into the crate, finding a grip. He then took the object out of the crate and marveled at it. The sword was one of the largest and longest that he had ever seen, and the blade practically glowed in the dark of night, with the characteristic ripples of Valyrian Steel. The pommel was rounded, and fashioned in the likeness of a roaring lion, while the long grip was wrapped in fine red leather. "I only wish that Tywin Lannister were here to see me holding his family's ancestral blade" Drakon said longingly. Turning around, he looked at Ser Samwell, who stood stoically behind them. "Ser Samwell, you have served me faithfully for many years now. As a reward for your service, I hereby give you this Valyrian Steel greatsword".

He handed the mighty weapon to the stocky Knight, who stared at it with reverence. The man then bowed, replying in his deep voice "Thank you, my lord".

Drakon then heard footsteps on the dock coming from behind him. He turned around, and saw Rona and the twins walking toward him. "My lord" the grey-clad Spymaster said, sounding like she was bearing significant news.

"What is it, Rona?" the muscular man asked her.

"Tywin Lannister is dead".

For several moments, Drakon did not speak. Visenya, Rona, Edric, and Edwyn stared at him, waiting for some kind of reaction. Eventually, the muscular man turned to Visenya, smiled, and said "It's time".

**And this brings us to the end of Part 4, which is also the end of where the show is. Tomorrow, I shall start posting for Part 5, the part that I have been most looking forward to for this story. Valar Morghulis! **


	52. Chapter 52 - Niceties

**Now we come to Part 5, the part that I have been dreaming about since I started this story. Not since the very beginning have I gone outside the show's storyline, and now we shall venture beyond it once more. Please bear with me; from this point forward, everything is entirely speculative. I'm having the story go in the direction that I want it to go, and having established characters react the way I think they would based on their personalities and track records. So, if you feel that a character like Balon Greyjoy or Cersei Lannister wouldn't exactly do what you think they would do in this part of the story, then that's why. Nevertheless, I do hope that you all enjoy the culmination of my efforts. Valar Dohaeris! **

_**At King's Landing…**_

__Drakon entered the Red Keep, his dyed black hair fluttering behind his head, flanked by Ser Manwoody and Gerold Halfhand. The sun was still rising; hours after receiving news of Tywin Lannister's death, a raven had arrived from the false King, summoning him to the capital for a special assignment. Drakon had immediately ridden to King's Landing, and as he rounded a corner, he was fairly certain about what Tommen had in store for him. He could only hope that Ser Hugo's efforts over the last year would bear the proper fruit. Eventually, Drakon came to the doors of the Great Hall. Two Goldcloaks opened the large double doors, and he walked into the large space, his knights following close behind. As he entered, he noticed that the usual number of courtiers weren't present, and neither was Cersei. The Lannister boy sat on the Iron Throne, with two Kingsguard standing beside him; he must have called this all together of his own initiative, per Ser Hugo's suggestion

As he walked between the courtiers, Tommen said "I, Tommen of the House Baratheon, First of My Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, do hereby proclaim Lord Sebastion Stormheart, Lord of Dragon's Rest, as Hand of the King and Protector of the Realm".

The crowd erupted into shocked murmurs, and Drakon cast surreptitious glances at the two Kingsguard; apparently, they were just as shocked as the rest of them. Holding his head high and maintaining a neutral expression, he walked up a few steps toward the Iron Throne as Tommen handed the badge of office to one of the Kingsguard. The man, probably Ser Meryn Trant, approached Drakon and handed him the badge. "Thank you, Your Grace" the muscular man said. "I promise to serve the realm to the best of my ability, and to ensure the prosperity of the Seven Kingdoms". He then turned around and walked, feeling the eyes of everyone in the room on him as he and his knights left the Great Hall.

A few hours later, Drakon made his way to the Tower of the Hand. He had called for a meeting of the Small Council shortly after seeing Tywin Lannister's body in the Sept of Baelor. One of the men who he hated most, the one who murdered his mother and was greatly responsible for ruining his life, was now dead. Drakon still found it hard to believe; after all these years, one of his greatest enemies had finally paid for his crimes. Now, as he entered the chamber where Tywin Lannister formerly held Small Council meetings, he vowed that the others on his list would pay for their crimes soon. The chairs placed around the table were some of the finest that Drakon had ever seen, and at the head, directly in front of the Hand's office, sat Cersei Lannister. The blonde woman stared menacingly at him; obviously, she was not pleased with her son's decision. The muscular man knew that she would be the greatest opposition he would face. She would most likely have him killed and replaced in due course if he proved to be… unmalleable, and she was most likely waiting to do that until she could gauge how cooperative he would be. "Your Grace" Drakon greeted, bowing to the vicious Lannister woman before sitting at the other end of the table, where Tyrion Lannister formerly sat. To his right sat Mace Tyrell and Grand Maester Pycelle, two of the highest-ranking men in the Seven Kingdoms, and also two of the most weak-willed. The three of them gazed at him for a moment, until they looked past him at the door as footsteps were heard. "I've invited my associates, Rona Grey and Simon Groat, to join us. I am naming them as new Master of Whisperers and Master of Coin, respectively".

The two of them bowed to the false Queen before taking their seats. Rona took the seat to Cersei's right, while Simon took the seat to her left. "We thank you for the honour of…" Rona started to say.

"Where is Tyrion?" Cersei asked icily, cutting the grey-clad Spymaster off. "Where is that murderous little beast?"

Drakon turned to look at Rona expectantly. "I-I'm afraid we do not know, Your Grace. My spies are still working on locating them".

"Then I suggest you keep working at it. The spiteful little creature has to be found and made to suffer". Rona bowed her head in response, and Cersei turned to look back at Drakon. "What of the Targaryen girl, in the east?"

"She is of no concern to us" he replied. "I'm sure that whatever precautions my predecessor put into place were more than sufficient". Turning to Mace Tyrell, he said "Lord Tyrell, I want you to oversee the construction of new ships for the Royal Fleet; it still hasn't recovered from its losses during the Battle of Blackwater Bay". The Lord of Highgarden nodded, and Drakon said "We also need to find a way to repair relations with Dorne; Prince Oberyn's death only widened the gap between them and the rest of the realm".

"How would we go about that, my lord?" Grand Maester Pycelle asked.

"Lord Tyrell, what would you say to marrying your son Loras to Princess Arianne?"

The bearded man appeared surprised, and Drakon could see a slight sign of relief through Cersei's icy exterior; Loras being what he was, the vicious woman probably hated the idea of marrying him. "I'm sure my son would be delighted, my lord".

"Shall I send a raven to Prince Doran?" the Grand Maester asked.

"Not just yet" Drakon replied. "We'll hammer out some of the details before we start negotiations". With that, Cersei stood up and walked out, followed by Mace Tyrell and Grand Maester Pycelle. Drakon consciously eased the tension in his muscles as he took a deep breath.

"Well, that was pleasant" Simon dryly commented.

Drakon turned to Rona. "Do we know where Varys and Tyrion are, now?"

"A few of my birds tell me that Lord Varys had a crate loaded onto a ship bound for the Free Cities, carrying Tyrion most likely. He hasn't been seen since, so I'm inclined to believe that he boarded it, also. Do you want anything done with them?"

Drakon stared at the table for a moment, considering his options, before shaking his head. "They aren't important. If anything, I should be thanking Tyrion for killing his father. Right now, I want you to send word to Dragon's Rest and the Lords of Crackclaw Point: the time has come to sound the drums of war. Have Ser Samwell and my sons journey here this evening, as well".

Rona nodded. "Anything else?"

Glancing back at the door, the muscular man replied "Find out the identities of all of Cersei's spies within the city. Once you have their names, give them to Ser Hugo, and have them all eliminated. This must be taken care of before the day is done; I can't have Cersei ruining my plans".

"Blinding the Lioness before we skin her?" Simon sardonically asked.

"Precisely" Drakon replied before standing up. He then walked out of the Hand's office, briskly walking through the halls until he caught up with Mace Tyrell; Cersei and Pycelle appeared to have gone their separate paths. "Lord Tyrell" he called, drawing the other man's attention. "I was hoping to speak to you about a few things".

"Of course, my Lord Hand" the portly man replied, and Drakon smiled in response as they walked down the hall together.


	53. Chapter 53 - Taking the Red Keep

Drakon stretched out his arms as his son Edric started putting pieces of armour on him. The twins and Ser Samwell had arrived with 200 men from Dragon's Rest an hour ago, and it was almost nighttime. The time had finally come to put on the Blackfyre armour, and as Edric slowly but surely tied all the straps and put the different pieces on, Drakon could feel the weight of destiny. Eventually, Edric finished, and the muscular man let his arms fall down to his side. He turned to his left and held out a clawed gauntlet as Edwyn handed the sword Blackfyre to him. The Valyrian Steel blade which had been wielded by Aegon the Conqueror and the namesake of his House would taste blood this night. He then heard footsteps approaching, and saw Ser Hugo, Rona, and Simon entering the Hand's office. "Is it done?" the muscular man asked.

Ser Hugo nodded. Like Drakon, he too was garbed in full plate armour, though it wasn't as grand as the silver-haired man's; as he was finally about to reveal himself, he had washed out the black dye in his hair and beard, revealing his Valyrian blood for all to see. "Yes, my lord. Cersei's spies are all dead, and your guards are making their way through the tunnels, just like you wanted".

"Good" Drakon replied as he placed Blackfyre in its sheath. "And the City Watch?"

"About a hundred of them are in the Red Keep, ready to assist your guards" the Knight replied. "The rest are spread throughout the city; they're hunting down every last Lannister man in the capital".

"Excellent". Drakon, after taking his unique helm with Dragon wings, turned to regard his sons and Ser Samwell, who was garbed in full plate armour and had Nymeria standing beside him. "It has been twenty one years since the Sack of King's Landing, since the death of Rhaegar Targaryen and most of his family. Now, the time has come to make those responsible pay for their crimes. My sons, you have grown to be fine warriors, and I could not be more proud of you. You proved yourselves against the Grey Maw, and I know that you will prove yourselves now. Show no mercy to your enemies, for they deserve none. Blood and Fire!" With that, Drakon placed his winged helm over his head and walked out of the Tower of the Hand, leaving Simon and Rona behind. As he rounded a corner, he spotted two Lannister men-at-arms walking toward him. Taking a deep breath, he drew Blackfyre and briskly made his way over to the doomed men. They drew their swords, and Drakon deftly blocked their first attacks before beheading the one man in a single swing. He then sliced the other man across the chest, watching with distinct pleasure as the red armour was cut like linen. Those two men now had the distinct honour of being the first people to die from Blackfyre in over a hundred years. "We go to Maegor's Holdfast" he said before sheathing his Valyrian Steel blade. As they walked along, they encountered some of his guards and members of the City Watch cutting Lannister men down like cattle.

"They don't stand a chance" Ser Hugo commented after slicing an opponent across the stomach, spilling his guts onto the floor. At the same time, Ser Samwell cut a man in half as Nymeria tackled another to the ground before savagely tearing his throat out.

"I thought fighting Lannister men would be much more difficult" Edric commented as he killed a man of his own.

"They've gotten used to beating the helpless and whoring their time away" Drakon said contemptuously. "None of these men knows what it's like to fight real warriors". The group then entered Maegor's Holdfast, where the Royal Apartments were located. At the far end of the hallway they were in, they could see three Lannister men being pierced by Goldcloak spears. They rounded a corner, and saw four Kingsguard in front of the door to Tommen's room. Drakon cracked his neck in anticipation. He knew that the Kingslayer wouldn't be one of them; the Oathbreaker couldn't fight without his right hand, so he would most likely be in his room or Cersei's. The Kingsguard drew their own blades just as a great clamour sounded from behind. "Go!" Drakon commanded. "We can take care of them". Ser Hugo and Ser Samwell nodded before going back in the direction they had just come from, leaving the muscular man and his sons to deal with the four Kingsguard.

"Moment of truth" Edwyn muttered to himself.

"Remember your training" Drakon told the twins. "Fight well, and burn your enemies". They then started walking toward the four knights as one of them shouted "Protect the King!" Edric and Edwyn started fighting the ones on the left and right, leaving the two in the centre for Drakon. They both brought their blades down in an overhead chop, which he easily blocked with Blackfyre. The muscular man shoved his opponents' swords away before he launched into an attack, shoving the one Kingsguard away before battering the other one with a series of strong attacks. The man could barely defend against the onslaught, and he was soon pressed against the wall. Just as he was about to deliver the killing blow, the other Kingsguard attacked once more. Drakon blocked a few attacks before striking the man's helmeted head, knocking him to the floor. He then drew his Valyrian Steel dagger and pressed it against the throat of the man pressed against the wall, slicing it. The muscular man then turned his attention to the Kingsguard that he had knocked down. The man was now standing, and his helmet was gone, revealing the bearded face of Ser Meryn Trant. Drakon smirked within his own helmet as the pathetic excuse for a Knight roared and attempted a slice aimed at his throat. The muscular man ducked below his opponent's blade as he sliced the man's leg, eliciting a cry of pain. Before Meryn Trant could do anything else, Drakon struck him on the back of the head with Blackfyre's pommel, knocking him unconscious. He then looked up to see Edric dueling with the final Kingsguard. He kept the Knight's attention occupied while Edwyn slipped around him and sliced the man's throat with his sword. Nodding to the two of them, Drakon said "Well done" as he slid his dagger into the sheath on the back of his belt. Just as Edric made a move toward Ser Meryn, he said "Leave him. He's no longer a threat to us".

The muscular man then kicked the door to Tommen's room open, stepping in a moment later. The blonde Lannister boy was sitting upright on his bed, and he appeared terrified upon seeing Drakon in his impressive Dragon armour. "Tommen of the House Lannister", he said, "I, Drakon, do hereby end your claim to the Iron Throne. You are no King". He then took a step toward the frightened boy as he drew his Valyrian Steel dagger, but then he froze. Suddenly, the memory of Gregor Clegane butchering Rhaegar's wife and children leaped unbidden into his mind. He growled in frustration as he saw Rhaegar's face forming in his mind's eye. He knew, in that moment, that he couldn't kill Tommen. Murdering an innocent child would make him no better than those whom he despised. With a sigh of defeat, Drakon said "You will be allowed to live, and you will be sent to the Wall to take the black". He motioned to Edric, who walked over and grabbed the blonde boy by the scruff of his collar. "Stay here; there is someone I must be seeing". He then left Tommen's room, sheathing Blackfyre and ignoring everything else. Robert Baratheon and Tywin Lannister were dead, and Jaime Lannister would die soon enough; only Gregor Clegane awaited him. As he finished walking down a flight of stairs, he came across two of his household guard roughly restraining Grand Maester Pycelle, who vehemently protested.

"What should we do with the Grand Maester, my lord?" one of them asked.

After regarding the old man for a moment, Drakon said "Throw him in one of the Black Cells. I don't expect it will be long before he starves to death". The guards then took the old man away, and the silver-haired man resumed his walk. Eventually, he came to the entrance of the Grand Maester's laboratory. He kicked the door open and walked in to find a man in Maester's robes with no chain in the corner. Drakon looked down at the table, and saw the massive form of Gregor Clegane, with putrefied wounds and several tubes and instruments hooked to him. The muscular man turned to regard the other man before he roughly shoved him against a shelf. Drawing his Valyrian Steel dagger, he said "Any man who would help the Mountain is my enemy" before stabbing him in the neck. He gurgled as blood poured from the wound, and Drakon let his corpse slump onto the floor. He then turned to the Mountain, removing all the tubes and instruments. The false Knight's wounds created a rancid smell that wafted through the laboratory, but Drakon did not notice; his attention was focused on the fact that his enemy had practically been served to him on a platter. "After all these years", he said, "here you are, lying helpless before me". He gripped one of the Mountain's ears before slicing it off. He then sliced the second ear off, saying "For twenty one years now, I've dreamed of how I would kill you". He then used the tip of the dagger to gouge the large man's eyes out. "Memories of that day still haunt me. I still see you every night, butchering my brother's children before raping his wife". Drakon paused, taking a moment to cut the Mountain's hand off. Throwing the severed extremity on the floor, he said "Now, you are going to pay for your crimes" before cutting the Mountain's other hand off. He then smashed the large man's teeth in with the handle of his dagger before sheathing the weapon. Drakon took off his helmet, and stared with glee as his enemy slowly died before his eyes.


	54. Chapter 54 - Claiming the Iron Throne

_**The following morning…**_

__Two Goldcloaks opened the doors, and Drakon stepped through into the Great Hall, with Visenya and his three children beside him. Daemon was at Dragonstone, under the protection of two of his knights and a garrison of several hundred men. The gathered nobles and courtiers all turned to look at him. They looked as if they were about to shout and curse, but they remained silent, probably due to his silver hair and beard. Several Goldcloaks stood at attention, forming an aisle in the centre of the large space and a barrier between the two groups. The muscular man walked up the steps and stopped when he was directly in front of the Iron Throne as Visenya, Edric, Edwyn, and Jayne sat down on simple chairs to the right. As they did so, Simon, Rona, Mace Tyrell, and his children Loras and Margaery took their seats to the left of the Iron Throne. Drakon turned to his right, and nodded to Ser Samwell, who had Nymeria at his side. The stocky Knight walked out into the hallway before returning with Tommen, eliciting a great clamour from the crowd of nobles. Ser Samwell brought the young Lannister boy over to Drakon, who took the golden crown of antlers from his head and held it high. "Tommen of the House Lannister is no King!" he proclaimed, his voice projecting throughout the large chamber. He then threw the crown onto the floor, and watched it roll for a while before coming to a stop near the doors. "You all know me as Sebastion Stormheart, but my true name is Drakon Blackfyre, son of Maelys I, and descendant of Aegon the Conqueror! The blood of Old Valyria is in my veins, and I am the rightful King!"

The statement elicited more angry shouts from the crowd, and Drakon took a deep breath before taking his seat on the Iron Throne. He motioned to the Goldcloaks at the large double doors at the far end of the Great Hall. One of them bowed before walking out into the hallway. He returned along with Ser Hugo and two others that escorted a struggling Cersei and Jaime Lannister. They were brought to the foot of the Iron Throne before they were made to kneel. "Tommen!" Cersei cried out as she tried to stand, only to have one of the Goldcloaks roughly push her down. The vicious woman turned her menacing gaze to Drakon. "You will die for this!"

"No, my lady Lannister", Drakon disagreed, "it is not my destiny to die this day".

Seemingly realizing that all the hate in the world would not save her, her demeanor changed to a far more pleading one. "Please", she begged, "don't hurt my son".

"Unlike your family, I do not murder children" Drakon replied. "Tommen is an illegitimate bastard, born of incest between you and your brother. He will be allowed to journey north and take the black, when the time comes. For now, you and your brother will stand trial for your crimes".

Cersei turned to look at the assembled Goldcloaks. "I am your Queen!" she shouted. "I command you to kill this traitor!"

"You have no power here, false Queen" Drakon countered. "You are a threat to no one. Your power is gone, and the time has come for you to answer for your transgressions".

"You are a usurper" Cersei spat.

"I am no usurper!" Drakon thundered as he stood up. The sheer ferocity of his outburst made the Lannister woman shrink and the crowd silence. Sitting back on the Iron Throne, the muscular man interlocked his fingers, taking a deep breath as he said "Your late husband, Robert Baratheon, was the Usurper. He wrongfully seized power from House Targaryen, my ancestors' House".

"This is all a farce!" the blonde woman suddenly shouted. "You are not the rightful King; my son is! I demand a Trial by Combat!"

The crowd once more erupted into a clamour, and Drakon replied "You have that right. Name your Champion".

Cersei bore a distinctly superior smile as she said "Ser Gregor Clegane".

It was Drakon's turn to smile a deep, satisfied smile as he replied "The false Knight, Gregor Clegane, is dead". Cersei's smile instantly disappeared. "He succumbed to wounds that he sustained from his duel with Oberyn Martell. This world is a better place without that butcher in it".

He could see Cersei glancing at her brother, trying desperately to think of a Champion with any hope of winning their freedom. Eventually, the vicious woman turned back to Drakon and said "Ser Meryn Trant, of the Kingsguard".

Drakon's smile remained as he motioned to the Goldcloaks at the doors. One of them walked away before returning with a battered-looking Meryn Trant. The man walked with a noticeable limp from the wound Drakon had inflicted upon him, and he could barely stand. As Cersei shuddered at the sight, the muscular man stood and proclaimed "The Trial will begin immediately. Ser Hugo, have the prisoners and their… Champion escorted to the arena".

A short time later, the proceedings moved to the arena where Oberyn Martell had met his end at the hands of the Mountain. The large, circular area bore the Lion and Stag of the so-called "Royal Family" sigil, something Drakon would wipe from existence in time. Cersei, Jaime, and Meryn Trant were escorted to one end of the arena, while Drakon stood at the opposite end with Ser Samwell. Visenya, his children, Rona, Simon, Mace Tyrell, along with Loras and Margaery, sat at the very centre of the seats above the arena, while the rest of the nobles and a great number of Smallfolk filled the remainder of the seats. Drakon watched Meryn Trant grimace as he drew his sword, smirking at the child-beater's discomfort. He then drew the Dragon horn, turning to the Blackwater that the arena straddled and gave a single bellow, watching the Valyrian runes glowing as he did so.

"What are you doing?" Cersei demanded.

Drakon turned to the vicious Lannister woman, smirking as he replied "Summoning MY Champion". A monstrous roar then came from far away, causing quite a stir from the crowd and eliciting nervous looks from the Lannister siblings and their Champion. A few moments later, the beating of wings could be heard as a shape appeared on the horizon. Soon enough, it began to take form, and within moments, Rhaegon landed, resting his wings on the edge of the arena while his hind legs were planted on the rock face below, supporting him. The Dragon had grown considerably over a short period of time. Ever since the Dragons had been born, Drakon had purposefully limited their food just enough to keep them at a mostly manageable size. That endeavor had become more and more difficult ever since the Red Wedding, but the capture of Dragonstone and the islands of Blackwater Bay had been a great boon; Drakon had allowed his two fire-breathing children to gorge themselves on as much food as they could eat, resulting in dramatic growth. Rhaegon's silver scales were almost blinding in the bright sunlight, and his golden wings added to his overall majesty. He was as large as a small castle now, with his head as large as a modest-sized carriage. His teeth were half as long as Drakon's arms, the horns along the back of his skull were as long as Drakon's entire body, and his neck frills were proportionate to the rest of his scaled body.

Rhaegon had been waiting for the summons from the edge of the Kingswood, hence his timely arrival, while Maelion was waiting for him and Visenya near Dragon's Rest. The silver Dragon let loose a thundering roar, eliciting screams of sheer terror from the crowd while the Lannister siblings fell on their backs. Turning around, Drakon held his hand out to Ser Samwell, who handed a crossbow to him. It was certainly a fine weapon, and it was entirely appropriate in this instance, for it was the weapon that Joffrey had used on so many occasions. He aimed it at Ser Meryn, whose attention was focused on Rhaegon, and fired. The bolt shot through the air before impacting the man's chest. The actual damage was minimal, due to his breastplate, but that would soon change. Pointing at Ser Meryn, Drakon said "_Ipradis_". Rhaegon turned his massive head to the man before he opened his jaws and clamped them down on the pathetic excuse for a Knight. The Dragon thrashed his head from side to side, eliciting screams of agony, before swallowing Ser Meryn in a single gulp. Rhaegon then lifted his head to the sky before breathing a torrent of flames. Handing the crossbow to Ser Samwell, Drakon loudly proclaimed "The gods have made their will known. Cersei and Jaime Lannister, I, Drakon of the House Blackfyre, First of My Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm and Father of Dragons, do hereby sentence you to death. The sentence will be carried out immediately".

He motioned to Ser Hugo and the Goldcloaks, who roughly brought the Lannister siblings to the centre of the arena under Rhaegon's watchful eyes. Drakon walked up to the Kingslayer, staring directly into the man's eyes as he said "It's been twenty one years, but you will finally pay for murdering the King you swore to protect".

"If you knew him, you'd know that I was doing the world a favour!"

"I did know him" Drakon replied. "He saved my life. And you murdered him. Now, you will watch as I take that which you love most as retribution for your crimes". He turned around, and saw Ser Samwell and his Direwolf approaching, followed by an aged man in scholarly robes who carried two small containers. "Thank you for coming, Wisdom Hallyne" Drakon said to the old man as he bowed slightly. "I have always held your order in the highest regard".

"Thank you, Your Grace" the old man replied. "I did as you asked".

The muscular man then took one of the small containers. He held it with the proper respect it deserved, and smiled as he turned to look at the Kingslayer. "Watch as the woman you love is taken from you!" He then threw the container at Cersei's feet as Ser Hugo and the Goldcloaks stepped back, and the Wildfire suddenly burst into being. The green flames instantly enveloped the Lannister woman, who shrieked in agony as she was burned alive. Her skin quickly turned black and blistered as her golden hair disintegrated, and her fine clothes melted as she flailed about. Drakon ignored the sight, however; his eyes were focused on the Kingslayer, smiling with grim satisfaction as he tried to struggle and break free in order to save his sister and lover. It was all for naught, and Cersei was soon reduced to a pile of ash, leaving a burnt smell that wafted through the air. The Kingslayer fell to his knees as tears started running down his face. Taking the second container from Wisdom Hallyne, Drakon said "Now join her in hell!" before throwing it at the Kingslayer's feet. Ser Hugo and the Goldcloaks backed away several steps, and the muscular man felt a weight suddenly lifted; after twenty long years, those who had ruined his life had finally been made to suffer for their crimes, and he had claimed his rightful place as King. Now, he had to destroy the world that Tywin had built, one filled with Oathbreakers and Usurpers, piece by piece.


	55. Chapter 55 - The Dragons' Coronation

_**At King's Landing…**_

__"And the Tyrells are behind us?" Visenya asked as she and Drakon slowly made their way toward the Sept of Baelor, with large crowds of Smallfolk and Goldcloaks all around them.

Drakon nodded. "With his mother back in Highgarden, there was no one between me and Mace. He took some convincing, but I sweetened the pot by naming him Hand of the King".

Visenya smirked. "We'll need the Tyrells on our side. What else did you and Mace agree to?"

"With all of the Kingsguard dead, they'll need new members. I made Loras the first new member and Lord Commander. Three years ago, Ser Barristan told me that none of the Kingsguard were worthy of the white cloak. I intend to make them a brotherhood to be feared and respected once more".

"And with Loras unable to inherit lands, Jayne won't have to marry him" the silver-haired woman noted.

Drakon looked into his sister's violet eyes. "Her infatuation with the Knight of the Flowers would end once she knew of his true nature. I couldn't let my daughter be hurt in such a manner. This way, I eliminate two problems at the same time. Also, Edwyn is to marry Margaery instead".

The two of them started to walk up the steps of the Sept of Baelor. "I imagine Margaery will be disappointed that she won't become Queen".

"She will have to get over it" Drakon sardonically remarked. "The Seven Kingdoms now have a new King and Queen". Turning to one of the Goldcloaks standing guard at the doors, he said "Open the doors". The two members of the City Watch bowed before pushing them. Drakon and Visenya then stepped into the Sept of Baelor, which was filled with a small crowd of nobles. The siblings slowly walked in between, maintaining high heads as they made their way toward the new High Septon, a man who called himself "High Sparrow". He was an older man, who wore only a simple roughspun tunic of white wool which slightly bared his hairy chest. He came from a religious order known as the Sparrows, which had been created directly as a result of the War of Five Kings. They protested the opulent displays of wealth of the Lannisters and the nobility, which made them suitable allies. Drakon had won the man over through promises of distributing Lannister gold to the Smallfolk and to return the leadership of the Faith of the Seven to proper, pious worship.

He was garbed in his black plate armour, with the three-headed black Dragon of House Blackfyre emblazoned on the centre of the breastplate and the centre of the crimson cape, while Visenya was dressed in a simple silver dress with a black Dragon embroidered in the centre. They walked up to the High Sparrow, kneeling before him as he turned to one of two thin men holding circlets on red pillows. The old man took the one circlet, which was black and looked like a Dragon wrapped in a circle, biting its own tail. The High Sparrow, holding it in his hands, said "In the light of the Seven, I hereby proclaim Drakon of the House Blackfyre, First of His Name, as King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm". He placed the Dragon circlet on Drakon's head, and the muscular man felt the cold metal against his skin. The High Sparrow then took the second circlet, which was crimson and also looked like a Dragon biting its own tail. "I also proclaim Visenya Blackfyre, His Wife, as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms". The old man placed the Dragon circlet on Visenya's head and took a step back. "Long may they reign!"

Drakon and his sister stood up and turned around to regard the gathered crowd, who echoed "Long may they reign!" before applauding and cheering. The two of them then walked back the way they had come, stepping out of the doors and waving to the gathered crowds before them. The people cheered and waved, and Drakon glanced behind him to see Ser Hugo, Mace Tyrell, Loras Tyrell, Simon, Rona, and his children approaching. "Jayne", the muscular man said, turning to his daughter and placing his hands on her shoulders, "Visenya and I are leaving, along with your brothers. While we're gone, I am naming you as Regent in my stead. Lord Tyrell and the Small Council will be here to advise and aid you".

She nodded in understanding. "Try not to be gone long".

Drakon smiled. "Hopefully not. I'm trusting you with this task because I know you can handle politics".

"Thank you, father" Jayne replied, kissing him on the cheek.

"Your daughter is in good hands, Your Grace" Mace Tyrell said. "She will be well-looked after".

"Thank you, Lord Tyrell" Drakon replied. "Now, we must be going". With that, he and Visenya started to make their way to one of the city's gates, followed by Ser Samwell and Nymeria, Edric and Edwyn, and Loras Tyrell, who was now garbed in the golden armour and white cloak of the Kingsguard. The group soon walked out of one of the gates, where they were greeted by the sight of a gathered army to the right and left, with the two Dragons directly in front. Shortly after his capture of the islands in Blackwater Bay, Drakon had ridden Rhaegon to each of the castles of the great houses of the Stormlands, earning their allegiance and calling their men to war. While the Stormlords flew their own banners, the army of Dragon's Rest and the lords of Crackclaw Point flew the banner of House Blackfyre; they now had a chance to march to war for the rightful King once more. Rhaegon and Maelion were laying on the grass, lounging about as the morning sun shone down. They perked up as Drakon and Visenya approached, and the muscular man gently stroked the silver Dragon's cheek, eliciting a pleased growl. He then walked over to Visenya and embraced the silver-clad woman in a passionate kiss. "I will see you soon, my Queen".

"And I will see you soon, my King" the silver-haired woman replied with a smile. She then mounted the specialized saddle which Maelion had been fitted with, proceeding to say something to him in High Valyrian. The bronze Dragon let loose a roar before he launched himself into the air, flying off into the distance.

Drakon turned to look at his sons. "You are both sixteen now. That means that you're no longer boys; you are men. We are about to go to war, and if you return from it, you will not be the same. Are you ready?" Edric and Edwyn glanced at each other before nodding. "Mount up". Ser Samwell handed his Dragon wing helmet to him, and as he, the twins, and Ser Loras mounted their horses, Drakon placed his Dragon circlet over his helmet. He then mounted Rhaegon's special saddle, proceeding to draw Blackfyre and hold it high. As the Valyrian Steel sword of Aegon the Conqueror gleamed in the bright sunlight, he shouted "We march for the Trident!" Both armies shouted in unison, and Rhaegon let loose a thunderous roar. Sheathing Blackfyre, Drakon placed a clawed gauntlet on the silver Dragon's thick, well-muscled neck and said "_Sovetis_". The muscular man gripped the reins as Rhaegon launched himself into the air, flapping his wings in order to ascend faster than anything Drakon had ever seen.

_**At the Twins…**_

__Walder Frey watched as one of his countless sons approached, a sealed letter in his hand. The younger man handed the letter to him, and the ancient head of House Frey waved him away. He didn't recognize the seal upon examination: a three-headed Dragon pressed into black wax. Opening the letter, Walder Frey started reading it aloud.

_For too long, the Dragons have been denied their birthright. The Usurper Robert Baratheon wrongfully ousted House Targaryen from the Iron Throne, claiming it with the aid of three men: the Kingslayer Jaime Lannister, the Oathbreaker Tywin Lannister, and the Butcher Gregor Clegane. All of these men are now dead, and I, Drakon of the House Blackfyre, have taken my rightful place as King of the Andals and the First Men. But there are those whose crimes are still unpunished. _

_First, Walder Frey, head of House Frey, violated the sacred Guest Right and slaughtered Robb Stark and the Northern army after extending the hospitality of his home to them. For your crimes, you shall burn in the Seventh Hell, and I will see to it that every last member of your disgusting brood will be put to the sword. House Frey will cease to exist, and your name will disappear from the world forever. _

Walder Frey stopped reading at that last part, laughing heartily. The rest of his family joined in, laughing as their ancient patriarch walked over to the flaming hearth and threw the letter into the fire. Secretly, though, he was concerned; with Tywin Lannister dead, he was no longer safe from reprisal from the Northmen or the Rivermen, not to mention this man claiming to be the 'rightful' King.

_**In the Iron Islands; at Pyke…**_

_Second, Balon Greyjoy, Lord of the Iron Islands, has twice rebelled against the authority of the Iron Throne. As King, I cannot trust that you will remain loyal to me. As punishment for your crimes, I will burn your fleets with Dragonfire and fly my Dragons to the Iron Islands. Pyke will become a blasted ruin like Harrenhal, and House Greyjoy will be exterminated from this world like House Hoare 300 years ago. The houses of the Iron Islands will be free to choose new leaders from their own number, just as they were after my ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror, conquered six of the kingdoms, and I will accept oaths of fealty from whomever they choose. _

Balon Greyjoy looked up from the letter at his gathered generals and his daughter, Yara. They all bore serious expressions, and the King of the Iron Islands was himself feeling quite nervous. His defeats in the North had damaged his prestige, and this new threat presented a danger that the Ironborn could not ignore. The elder Greyjoy crumpled the letter in his hand before throwing it into the fire with a scowl on his face.

_**In the North; at the Dreadfort…**_

_Third, Roose Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort, Oathbreaker and Usurper, betrayed his liege lords, House Stark, and took part in their destruction in the 'Red Wedding'. For your crimes, your armies will be slaughtered to the last man, every member of your House will be put to death, and the Dreadfort will be burned to ash with Dragonfire. House Bolton will be forgotten, and everything you have worked to build will burn. _

Roose Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort and Warden of the North, looked up from the letter at his son and heir, Ramsay, with concern in his eyes. The young man stood with his arms crossed, and his pet, Reek, meekly stood behind him with his head bowed low. After exchanging glances with his son, Roose Bolton return his gaze to the letter.

_All of these men will be punished. I will march my armies forth, and they will know pain and suffering and death. The Seven Kingdoms will return to a state of prosperity, and those with the blood of Old Valyria will rule again. My enemies will know my power through Blood and Fire. _

_Let all Oathbreakers and Usurpers take heed, for the Black Dragon is coming for you. _

_Drakon of the House Blackfyre, First of My Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, and Father of Dragons. _

The elder Bolton then set the letter down on the table, walking over to a nearby window and crossing his arms. "This threat has to be dealt with" he said, turning to look at Ramsay.

"It will", the younger man replied, holding the letter over a lit candle. As it caught fire, he said "After all, our words are 'Our Blades are Sharp'; this Drakon will come to know just how sharp they are".


	56. Chapter 56 - Strategy

_**Somewhere in the Riverlands…**_

__Drakon stepped through into the cave, flanked by two ragged-looking men with torches. Ser Loras followed close behind, along with four men-at-arms from the Crownlands and a redheaded woman. The cave was dark and dingy, but quite expansive, and it soon became abundantly clear that a great many ragged-looking men were present. Drakon and his group came to a stop, and the other men stood up. Two of the ones in the centre stood out from the rest: one was balding, with red hair and a red beard, and red chain mail covering a battered breastplate, while the other man had dark hair, a ragged beard, wore an eye patch over his right eye, and he had a particularly nasty-looking scar on his neck. "So you are the Brotherhood Without Banners" Drakon said, crossing his armoured arms. "I always wondered how you managed to hide from the Lannisters for so long".

"These caves have served us well" the man with the eye patch said. "How did you find us?"

Drakon motioned to the redheaded woman, who had a Hawk perched on her arm. "Cat is an excellent hunter and tracker". He stared at the one-eyed man for several moments. "I know you" he said at last. "Lord Beric Dondarrion?"

The other man nodded. "Aye. That's who I was. Now, I'm a ghost, just like my brothers here".

Drakon nodded, and the man with red hair said "Question is, what are you gonna do with us? Are we to become proper ghosts?"

The muscular man chuckled. "Not today" he said, motioning to the four men-at-arms. They brought forth bundles of cloth, proceeding to lay them down on the ground in front of the burning fire in the centre of the cave. As they did so, the bundles opened to reveal piles of swords, bows, and arrows, and Drakon could tell that the men of the Brotherhood were taken by surprise. "It's all good steel" he explained.

"Why would you do this?" Lord Beric asked, sounding suspicious.

"Because we have a common enemy" Drakon replied. "The Lannisters. My army is still gathering, and in the meantime, these weapons will go a long way toward hampering the Lannisters and their allies".

"And what would you want in return for this generous donation to our cause?" another man with a longbow asked.

"Nothing so taxing, I assure you" Drakon replied. "I want information".

"Information? About what?" the redheaded man asked.

"You've been fighting here in the Riverlands for years now. You must have accurate information on all major troop movements in the area".

"You want to know about House Frey" Lord Beric surmised.

Drakon nodded. "I know that 2 000 Frey soldiers are currently besieging Riverrun. I want to know where the other 2 000 are".

Lord Beric glanced at the redheaded man before saying "Many of them are raiding the farms, taking what they want without consequence ever since House Tully was attainted. Most of them, however, are holed up in Seagard".

Drakon bowed his head. "Thank you". He then turned around and walked out of the cave with Ser Loras and the others.

As they walked over to their horses, Ser Loras glanced back at the cave entrance before saying "I've heard dark stories about these men, Your Grace. Stories of that fat eastern man bringing Lord Beric back to life with sorcery!"

"I know" Drakon replied.

"You know?" the Knight of the Flowers asked.

"Lord Beric had a very specific scar on his neck" the muscular man explained. "I've only ever seen that kind of scar from men who have been hanged, and the last time I checked, hangings were lethal". They then mounted their horses and rode off; as the forest near the Brotherhood's hideout was too dense, Drakon had had to leave Rhaegon with the army camped near the Ruby Ford. It had taken them two days to arrive there from King's Landing, and Drakon suspected that it would still be some time before Visenya returned.

_**Two days later…**_

__"I've left Ser Bennard at Harrenhal with a garrison of 800" Drakon said, pointing to the ancient castle's location on the map. Around it were his sons, Ser Samwell and Ser Prester, some of the lords of Crackclaw Point, and a few lords of the Stormlands.

"Shouldn't we have more men in the garrison?" Edric asked.

"The castle's so large that we'd need our entire army to fully garrison the damn thing" Lord Pyne commented. "A good-sized garrison in the right hands can properly defend it. Besides, we outnumber the Freys almost ten to one; they won't risk assaulting the castle".

"Yes", Drakon agreed, "but we must rely on skill and cunning, not numbers". Gazing at the map of Westeros before him in his spacious tent, he said "And we still have the Lannisters to deal with, eventually". Just then, a horn sounded in the distance, and Ser Ronald Storm, a recently-made Knight from House Connington and the third man Drakon had named as a Kingsguard after Ser Prester and Ser Loras, entered.

"Your Grace" the man said, bowing. "The scouts report men approaching from the East Road".

"Is my wife with them?" Drakon asked.

"Aye" the Knight replied. "The scouts also reported seeing a bronze Dragon flying overhead. They almost shit themselves when they first saw it".

The muscular man smiled, and walked out of the tent. Rhaegon lay on the grass beside the tent, and he perked up as Drakon approached. A field of tents was spread out across the area, and the Ruby Ford could be seen not too far away. Off in the distance, a great number of armed figures were approaching, and Drakon could see Maelion flying toward the camp. Soon enough, a number of riders rode up just as the bronze Dragon landed beside his silver brother. The muscular man could see Visenya on the creature's saddle, and she was not alone; sitting in front of her was an excited-looking young boy with a head of scruffy black hair, while behind her sat a young woman who had her arms wrapped around the silver woman's waist in terror. Drakon supposed that it would be terrifying to many to suddenly find themselves riding a creature previously thought to be extinct. He helped Visenya to dismount, and proceeded to passionately kiss her, happy to have her in his arms again. "I missed you" he said, stroking her alabaster cheek.

"And I missed you" Visenya replied.

The group of riders then dismounted their horses before approaching. The man who led them was old, with grey hair, clean-shaven features with slightly flabby jowls, a hard look on his face, and a suit of bronze armour. "Lord Royce", Drakon greeted, "I thank you for coming".

"I don't see how I had much choice" the older man sardonically remarked, taking a moment to glance at Maelion. "Still, the might of the Vale is at your command; 15 000 strong" he added, gesturing to the army that Visenya had brought with her. Drakon had sent her to gain the allegiance of the lords of the Vale while he marched toward the Trident with the armies from the Crownlands and the Stormlands. "My son, Andar" Lord Royce said, indicating the powerfully-built bearded Knight beside him. Drakon nodded to the heir of House Royce as another of the riders helped a very familiar man to dismount.

"Lord Baelish" the muscular man sarcastically greeted. "I trust your journey was satisfactory?" The slippery little man could not answer, for he had been bound and gagged at Drakon's request.

"Samwell" Lord Royce said, sounding surprised as he looked over at the stocky Knight.

"Father, brother" Ser Samwell replied neutrally to Lord Royce and Andar. Drakon knew that their relationship was strained, but hopefully they could move past their bad blood.

"Can we fly again?" an eager-sounding voice asked. "Can we?"

"Soon" Visenya soothed as Drakon turned to look at the voice's owner. It was the boy that had ridden with her on Maelion. "Robin Arryn" the silver-haired woman whispered in his ear. "I found him and Baelish on their way from the Eyrie. He surrendered control of the Vale to me for a ride on Maelion".

Drakon chuckled, fully appreciating the irony of the situation: 300 years ago, Aegon the Conqueror's sister, Visenya, had flown her Dragon, Vhagar, to the Eyrie, gaining the allegiance of the Vale from the boy King who ruled there in exchange for a ride on the great beast. It would seem that history repeated itself. "And her?" he asked, referring to the young woman who had also ridden with Visenya.

"She was with Robin and Baelish" his sister explained. "I thought you would be very interested to meet her".

Drakon arched an eyebrow in mild suspicion before taking a look at the young woman. She was dressed in black travelling clothes, and her black hair ran past her shoulders. The muscular man focused on her hair as he took a few steps toward her. Reaching a hand over, he rubbed a few hairs in between his fingers, and his suspicions were confirmed upon seeing the black stain on them. Upon seeing the hint of auburn, Drakon asked "Sansa Stark?" He could see the look of fear in the young woman's eyes, and indicating his black-stained fingers, he said "I have had occasion to use this same dye, myself". He placed a hand on her shoulder. "You have nothing to fear from me, my lady. Edric", he said, turning to look at his son, "find Lady Sansa a tent, and see that she is properly cared for". As Edric escorted Sansa Stark away, Ser Ronald Storm escorted Robin Arryn away. Drakon then turned to look at Lord Baelish, who eyed him with concern. After a moment, the muscular man turned to Ser Samwell and said "Kill him". The stocky Knight nodded before drawing Brightroar, the ancestral Lannister blade. He then walked over to Lord Baelish before stabbing the man in the chest. As the corpse collapsed onto the ground, Drakon turned to Lord Royce and said "Come, we were just going over our strategy".

They made their way to the large tent, and the older man asked "So, what exactly are you planning?"

"Currently, Paxter Redwyne and Randyll Tarly are gathering a large fleet and army in the Reach" Drakon replied. "When they're ready, they'll sail up the coast, toward the Iron Islands. By that time, we will have liberated the Riverlands from the Freys and gained the Riverlords' allegiance".

"Do we have any idea where their forces are now?" the older man asked.

"There are currently 2 000 Frey men besieging Riverrun. Most of the other 2 000 are at Seagard. My plan is this: you will take the men of the Vale and march directly to the Twins. You will lay siege to the castle, while I take the rest of the army west, to liberate Riverrun. Once that is accomplished, I'll take Seagard. When whatever garrison currently holds the Twins hears about the destruction of the Frey army, they will have no choice but to surrender".

Lord Royce nodded. "What about the Lannisters? I can't imagine they'll sit idly by after what you did in King's Landing".

"No" Drakon agreed. "We killed every last Lannister in the city except for Kevan, Tywin's younger brother. He somehow managed to escape before we could finish him".

"Whatever army he does manage to scrounge up can't be that much of a threat, can it?" Edwyn asked.

"Quite right" Drakon said. "The men of the Westerlands won't be so eager to march to war so soon after the last one. Kevan will have a hard time building a suitable force. Hopefully, by the time he does, we'll be ready for him".

"And what about the Ironborn?" Lord Bogg asked. "I don't imagine they will sit idly by, either".

"Don't worry" Drakon replied. "I have something special in mind. The Ironborn will be dealt with, but our first priority is securing the Riverlands". Turning to Lord Royce, the muscular man said "I know that I had to force your hand, but it is my hope that we can find common ground. To that end, I am hereby naming you as Lord Paramount of the Vale".

The old man looked surprised. "What about Robin Arryn?"

"Do you really want a sickly little boy like that as your liege lord?" Drakon countered.

"No, I suppose not" Lord Royce agreed. "What do intend to do with him?"

"He will be allowed to live in seclusion, where he can get the proper care that he needs. Furthermore, I propose that we seal this new alliance with a marriage: my daughter, Jayne, to your son, Andar. What do you say?"

Lord Royce took several moments, clearly thinking the matter over. Drakon knew that it was an attractive offer, and he was hoping that it would be enough to win the man's loyalty. Eventually, the old man said "Finally, a King I get behind" before shaking Drakon's hand.

"We march tonight" the muscular man proclaimed.


	57. Chapter 57 - Lifting the Siege

_**The following night…**_

__Rhaegon gently flared his neck frills, and Drakon placed a hand on the silver Dragon's neck, calming him down. The muscular man gazed out at the castle in the distance, taking note of the tents surrounding it. The ancient seat of Riverrun was situated on the point where the Red Fork of the Trident met with the Tumblestone River. It wasn't an especially large castle, but it was one of the more impressive; the three-sided structure was bordered by the two rivers, with the third side bordered by a massive ditch. As it was currently under siege, its sluice gates were raised, leaving a large moat around it which prevented the Frey soldiers from directly assaulting the castle. Night had fallen some time ago, and the only lights in the immediate area came from the torches in the Frey camp and Riverrun. Turning to the right, Drakon could see only darkness, but he knew that his army was waiting for the signal.

It was time to give it.

Leaning close to Rhaegon's head, Drakon said "_Sovetis_". The silver Dragon let loose a thundering roar before leaping into the air, flapping his vast golden wings as he flew toward the Frey camp. A similar roar sounded from nearby, signaling that Maelion had also taken flight. Rhaegon soared through the air, reaching Riverrun in no time at all. As he flew over the castle, Drakon could see that they were approaching the Frey camp on the northern side of Riverrun, situated across the Tumblestone River. The muscular man said "_Dracarys_" and Rhaegon proceeded to unleash a torrent of brilliant Dragonfire on the tents, setting them all aflame. After a moment, the silver Dragon ended the flow of fire and turned around, flapping his mighty wings in order to keep himself aloft. Drakon could see the Frey men in the northern camp burning alive, and the roaring flames lit the nearby landscape. Visenya then descended on the western Frey camp, situated across from the ditch on the castle's western side. The bronze Dragon set it aflame with Dragonfire, and the men in it similarly all burned alive.

From his high vantage point, Drakon could see the Frey men in the eastern camp roused to action. Rather than launching a suicidal attack against the Dragons, they did the only logical thing and fled from the castle, right into Drakon's army. The horns sounded, and a chorus of shouts suddenly cried out as the men of the Crownlands and Stormlands descended on the last of the Frey soldiers.

_**On the ground…**_

__Edric tightly gripped the handle of his sword as his father and Visenya quickly and mercilessly wiped out most of the Frey soldiers besieging Riverrun. It was pitch-black all around them, but the young man knew that he was surrounded by his father's army. Glancing to his left, Edric barely made out his brother astride his horse. He then returned his gaze to the front. He knew that he was surrounded by some of the finest warriors in the Seven Kingdoms, and he was also amidst a numerically superior army that was about to finish off the frightened remnants of a much smaller force. All that knowledge did nothing to ease the fear of going into battle; he and his twin brother had sparred countless times over the last few years, and they had accompanied their father when he had dealt with the Grey Maw bandits at Antlers, but this time was different. They were at war, and there was a very real possibility that they wouldn't see the end of it.

Edric shook his head, trying to clear it of such distracting thoughts as the horns sounded, spurring the army to action. Drawing his sword, the young man kicked his horse into a full gallop, charging the few surviving Frey men along with the rest of the army as they all shouted in unison. He shouted along with them, feeling the rush of battle overtaking him. The front line soon came close to the Frey men, and Edric swung his sword, killing his first man in a real battle.

_**The morning after…**_

A short time later, the sun started rising, shining down on the charred remains of the formerly besieging army. Tents and men alike had been reduced to ash, leaving only charred remains. Rhaegon leaned his massive head close to the ground, and Drakon gently stroked the silver Dragon's cheek as Riverrun's sluice gates were closed, eventually getting rid of the moat and ending the siege. A few riders then departed from the ancient castle, riding up to Drakon, his family, and the three Kingsguard a few moments later. The group wore the characteristic Riverlands black, fish-scale armour, and their leader was an older man who looked like he had fought in several wars. "And here I thought I was dreaming", he dryly commented, "or dead".

Drakon smirked. "You are neither, Ser Brynden".

"You should kneel before your King" Ser Loras demanded.

"It's all right" Drakon said, holding up a hand. "I'm not so petty as to demand people to bow to me in order to satisfy my vanity. Ser Brynden, I do not expect your allegiance simply because I demand it. I expect it because I will help you deliver swift and righteous retribution on those who slaughtered your family".

The older man pursed his lips, staring at Drakon for several moments. "And what exactly do you propose?" he asked at last.

"After House Frey falls, House Tully will regain their rightful place. Your nephew will be freed and made Lord Paramount of the Trident once again. In return, I expect oaths of fealty from him after this war is over, assuring your loyalty to me".

Ser Brynden Tully was silent for a time, clearly thinking it over. Drakon could see that the man realized his lack of choice in the matter. After glancing at the Dragons, he finally said "All right, Your Grace. After we take back our lands, we'll swear fealty to you, on one condition: I get to kill Walder Frey myself".

Drakon understood all too well the burden of having to avenge the deaths of one's family. "Very well. Walder Frey is yours, but the rest of his miserable brood are mine".

The army then made camp near Riverrun, and as the sun set on the horizon, Drakon found himself in his spacious tent, drinking wine as he sat down in his chair. Around him stood his Kingsguard, with the recent additions of Ser Benedict Mooton, an up-and-coming swordsman from Maidenpool, and Ser Eustace Hunter, second-born son of the late Lord Eon Hunter of the Vale. Though all five men were Drakon's Kingsguard, Ser Loras was the only one who currently wore the golden armour and white cloak, as the other four had been named after the army had marched from King's Landing.

Drakon stared ahead, at his black, Dragon plate armour. He stared at the Blackfyre sigil emblazoned in the centre of the breastplate. Twenty one years ago, he had vowed to avenge the deaths of his brother Rhaegar and Rhaegar's family; for all that time, Drakon had carried the burden of failure, blaming himself for not preventing what had happened. Now, Rhaegar had been avenged, and Drakon had taken up the mantle of Kingship. He took another sip of wine, and Visenya entered a moment later with Edric. The muscular man stood up, kissing his sister before placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "I heard you did well today".

The young man shrugged his shoulders. "No more than everyone else. It wasn't much of a battle, really".

"True" Drakon agreed. "Still, you showed courage, and a willingness to fight your enemies. This war is a long way from ending; you will need to fight, and kill, many times before its end".

Edric nodded. "I know. I'm ready for whatever lies ahead".

"I know you are". Drakon then turned to the five Kingsguard. "Wait outside". As they stepped out of the tent, the muscular man said "Son, you know that, in order to win, we must make alliances, and that these alliances are sealed in marriage". Edric nodded his understanding, and Drakon continued. "Your brother is promised to Margaery Tyrell, and your sister is now promised to Andar Royce. This secures the support of the Reach and the Vale, which we will count on in the coming days. That leaves you. You know that Sansa Stark is alive, which makes her the heir to Winterfell and the North. It is my wish to have you marry Sansa Stark, thus joining Stark with Blackfyre".

Edric looked surprised, and he took his time before asking "Marry Sansa Stark? Will she even want me? That poor girl lost her entire family, and she's been a plaything of the Lannisters for years now".

Drakon nodded. "She has certainly experienced more grief and tragedy than anyone should have to ever experience, but she is strong. You are my son; I know that you are kind-hearted, and you will grow up to become a better man than I am. I also know that you will look after her and care for her. Perhaps, given time, the two of you will grow to love one another".

"Do I have to decide right now?"

Drakon shook his head. "No; take as long as you need. In the meantime, I have something for you". The muscular man then retrieved a sword and sheath from a sack, holding it to his son. Edric took it in his hands, and as he slid the sword a little from its sheath, Drakon explained "This sword was forged from the ancestral Stark blade by Tywin Lannister's order. The boy Joffrey called it 'Widow's Wail', but I think you should pick its new name".

The Valyrian Steel sword glimmered in the candlelight, and its golden handle was rather magnificent. Where before it had been forged in the likeness of a stag, it was now in the likeness of a wolf; Drakon had had the handle altered after he had taken the sword from Tommen Lannister's room, and the Valyrian Steel blade now emerged from the snarling jaws of a wolf, while the cross guard was shaped like wolf heads. After examining it for some time, Edric looked at Drakon and said "Wolf's Howl".

The muscular man smiled. "Go get some sleep. You can give me your answer in the morning". Edric then walked out of the tent, and Drakon laid down on his bed. "Did you send word to King's Landing?" he asked Visenya, who shed her silver garment, baring her glorious naked body.

"Yes" she said, getting on top of him. "I expect it will be some time before your special cargo gets here".

"I know" Drakon agreed. "So for now, all we can do is wait". He then passionately kissed Visenya, running his hands through her long, silver hair.


	58. Chapter 58 - Taking Seagard

_**At King's Landing…**_

__Jayne tossed and turned in her bed, trying desperately to fall asleep. She tried to clear her head of all distractions, but nothing was working. Growling in frustration, the young woman sat upright, looking around her room. It was dark, and only the moonlight streaming in through the open wall provided illumination. Jayne lifted her blanket before getting out of bed, sighing in defeat as she walked over to a table near the door. She examined the letter that was laying on it, going over its contents. A rider had arrived the night before bearing the letter, which had been sent from her father. He and his army had successfully liberated Riverrun, and it wouldn't be long before they moved on the Twins. Her father had also requested that a certain substance be sent to him in sizeable quantities; they were on their way to him even now.

However, it was the last piece of news that was keeping Jayne awake.

Setting the letter back on the table, she wrapped a shawl around her shoulders before leaving her room. Carellen Stokeworth was standing guard at her door, and the woman perked up upon noticing her. "Is something wrong, princess?" she asked her.

Jayne shook her head. "No, I just need to see someone". She then started walking, hearing the sounds of the Sworn Sword's footsteps as she followed her. She had been made her Sworn Shield while her father and brothers were away, and the third-born daughter of Lord Stokeworth followed her wherever she went. The young woman made her way through the Red Keep, coming across the occasional servant or guard. They all bowed as she passed, and Jayne mulled over the fact that she had started her life as a simple merchant's daughter, and had quickly risen to noblewoman and then princess within a five year period. If nothing else, her father's crusade had paved the way for her to climb the social ladder. Eventually, she arrived at her destination. Knocking at the door, she waited patiently for what seemed like a small eternity before the door opened, revealing a tired-looking woman with dark brown hair that fell haphazardly down to her shoulders. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Rona" Jayne said, absently rubbing her hands together. "Can we talk?"

"Yes, of course" the tired Spymaster replied, stepping aside. "Please, come in".

Jayne accepted the invitation, stepping into the older woman's room as Carellen Stokeworth waited outside. Rona closed the door, proceeding to slip something into her sleeve as she walked over to her bed. "Was that a knife?" Jayne asked.

"In King's Landing, one can never be too careful" Rona replied with a smirk.

The young woman nodded, taking a moment to look around the room. It was rather austere, with nothing but a bed and a writing desk as furniture. "What do you know of Andar Royce?" she asked at last, still rubbing her hands together.

Rona ran a hand through her bed hair. "This is about your father's letter, isn't it?" she asked, sounding as if she already knew the answer.

"It's not every day that father sends news that I'm engaged" Jayne replied, wanting desperately to pour all of her anxiety out into the open.

The Spymaster nodded in understanding. "You should consider yourself lucky, you know. Most girls are engaged when they're very young; some are even promised while still in infancy".

"I know" Jayne replied. "But I'm still feeling quite anxious about the whole thing".

Rona stood up, taking a few steps toward the young woman and placing hands on her shoulders. "Your father loves you, and he only wants what is best for you" she soothed. "That's why he's waited so long before arranging a marriage for you. He's always dreaded the day when you'd have to leave to live with someone you've never met".

Jayne smiled marginally, taking comfort from Rona's presence. "So what do you know about him?"

Rona sighed before replying "He's the eldest son and heir of Lord Yohn Royce, and by all accounts, he is a skilled warrior. But that's not what you want to know, is it?"

Jayne shook her head. "Is he a good man? Is he kind?"

"As far as I can tell, he is his father's son: harsh, but fair, and not cruel by any measure. While he may not be a gentle-hearted bard, he is an anointed Knight, and he takes his vows seriously". Rona then kissed Jayne's forehead. "You should get some sleep. It wouldn't do for the Regent to appear bleary-eyed before the court, would it?"

The young woman smiled; ever since her mother had died, Rona had been the one to fuss over her and her brothers. She then left the Spymaster's room, a little more at ease than when she had entered.

_**At Riverrun…**_

__Drakon held his arms out as Dickon Brune, Lord Eustace's grandson, went about equipping the black, Dragon plate armour on him. As the teenager tied the straps of one clawed gauntlet, Edric and Edwyn entered the tent, followed by Ser Samwell and Visenya. The sun was starting to rise, and after almost a week of waiting, the army was finally ready to march north. "You're leaving us behind?" Edwyn asked, sounding quite surprised.

"Yes" Drakon replied.

"Why?" Edric asked, mirroring his twin's sentiments.

"I'm only going as far north as the Twins" the muscular man explained. "After I take the crossing, I'll leave a garrison there and return here".

"But why leave us here?" Edwyn repeated.

Drakon lowered his arms once his squire was done with his armour. Sighing, he turned his gaze to Ser Samwell. The stocky Knight then said "Your father is not taking all of his army to the Twins. He's only taking the soldiers from the Crownlands".

Edric's eyes suddenly opened in understanding. "You're leaving the men from the Stormlands here!"

Drakon nodded. "Kevan Lannister is coming. I have to leave a force here at Riverrun if he attacks before I get back". Walking over to his sons, he placed his hands on their shoulders. "I'm trusting you to remain here while I am away. Visenya will stay here with you, along with three of the Kingsguard and Ser Samwell. I know that you are up to the challenge. Make me proud". The twins glanced at each other before nodding solemnly.

"We will" Edwyn promised.

"Good" Drakon replied. He then walked out of the tent, making his way over to Rhaegon. The army from the Crownlands was assembled and ready to march, while the men of the Stormlands were camped on the River Road, in between the two rivers and next to Riverrun. The silver Dragon shook his head a little, preparing himself for flight. Drakon turned to Visenya and kissed her.

"Don't die before the war is over, my King" she said with a smirk.

"Don't worry", the muscular man assured her, stroking her cheek, "I'll be fine".

_**A few days later…**_

__"Fuck the gods!" Drakon cried as more arrows shot past him. Rhaegon roared in frustration, echoing his rider's sentiments before he was drowned out by a deafening thunder clap. They were both soaked from the torrential downpour, which not only made them cold and soaking, but also made it difficult for Rhaegon to fly, forcing the silver and gold Dragon close enough to the ground for archers to take shots at it from the walls of Seagard, a settlement that rested on the coast along Ironman's Bay. Normally the seat of House Mallister, it was now home to the remaining Frey army, which was actively resisting his force's assault; apparently, the defenders were emboldened by the fact that Rhaegon had difficulty flying in such a deluge.

Looking down below, Drakon could see his army returning arrow for arrow at the Frey men, while a number tried to assault the town's gate. More arrows shot past him, and the muscular man roared, having had enough obstacles hindering him. He steered Rhaegon down to the wall of the town, and as the Dragon shot toward it, he shouted "_Dracarys_!" Rhaegon then unleashed Dragonfire on the wooden wall as he flew over it, setting a large section alight. Once they were away from the wall, Drakon said "_Kelitis_!" The muscular man turned to look back at the wall, and saw that the flame was already being doused by the sheer volume of rainwater. It was finally finished off by water that came from a wave that crashed against the shore. He could see that the section of wall was blackened, but otherwise, it remained intact.

Growling in frustration, Drakon guided Rhaegon to the blackened wall. As the silver Dragon flapped his vast, golden wings in order to remain aloft, he gripped the top edge of the wooden structure with the vicious claws of his feet. As another deafening thunderclap sounded overhead, Rhaegon began to tear the wood down, ripping a large hole into being, piece by piece.

Noticing approaching Frey archers out of the corner of his eye, Drakon got down off of Rhaegon's back and onto the wall. Drawing Blackfyre, he briskly walked toward his enemies, who quickly tried to shoot him with their arrows. They were terrible shots up close, and whatever arrows did strike him harmlessly struck his black plate armour. Drakon swung his Valyrian Steel sword, slicing one man across the chest and sending him tumbling down onto the ground below.

He then stabbed a man to his left, pinning him against the edge of the wall. Quickly glancing to his left, Drakon saw that Rhaegon had finished ripping a hole in the wall. Removing his sword from the corpse, he took off his Dragon wing helmet, laying down before taking the Dragon horn and giving a single bellow. The silver Dragon landed inside the wall, lumbering over to him as his army started pouring in through the hole. With 18 000 men at his command, the Freys would be overwhelmed and slaughtered. Leaping down onto Rhaegon's back, the muscular man pointed at a number of enemy archers on the wall and said "_Dracarys_!"


	59. Chapter 59 - Battle of Fire and Water

_**At Riverrun…**_

__Edric took a deep breath as he stopped at the door, noticing Ser Eustace Hunter, one of the three Kingsguard left in Riverrun, moving to stand guard nearby. He knocked a few times before gently easing it open. "Lady Sansa?" he called, looking inside the room. As the door opened, he saw Sansa Stark sitting on a window sill, staring out at the Whispering Wood in the distance. The young woman's hair had returned to its natural auburn colour, and she currently wore a dress that Edric had seen the ladies of Riverrun wearing. She turned to look at him, and he said "I can come back…"

"No, that's all right" the Stark girl replied, standing up. She glanced down at the tray he held in his hand, and asked "Is that…"

"Lemon Cakes" Edric finished. "I thought you might like some".

"That's very sweet. Lemon Cakes are my favourite".

"I know" the young man replied.

"How do you know?"

"My father is very well-informed" Edric explained. He held the tray to Sansa, who hesitated before taking one of the sweet pastries. Based on the treatment she had received from the Lannisters, the young man could certainly understand how she wouldn't be quick to trust strangers. Setting the tray down on a nearby table, he turned around and started walking out.

"That sword", Sansa said, stopping him, "why does the hilt have wolves on it?"

Edric turned to face her, glancing down at the Valyrian Steel weapon. "It… was one of the swords that was made from your father's blade. My father had the hilt altered". The comment had the expected effect of Sansa's expression becoming mournful; a reminder of her dead father was sure to bring back memories of a happier time, before the Lannisters had kept her hostage. After several moments, Edric said "I am so sorry for all that you have suffered, Lady Sansa. No one should have to go through what you have. I know that our marriage is probably the last thing you want to think about, but know that I will never mistreat you. I will never hurt you, and I will spend the rest of our lives treating you as you deserve".

Sansa rubbed her hands together; the thought of their marriage was, most likely, an uncomfortable thought for her, especially considering how Tywin Lannister had forced her to marry the Imp. Eventually, she asked "What about Lord Tyrion?"

"What about him?" Edric countered. "Your wedding was never consummated. Besides, the Lannisters will become ghosts after my father's through with them".

"What do you mean?"

Before Edric could reply, horns sounded in the distance moments before Riverrun's bells started ringing. Ser Samwell and Edwyn burst in a few moments later, and Edric asked "What's going on?"

"The Lannisters" the stocky Knight replied. "They're here".

_**A few minutes earlier…**_

__Edwyn quickly stepped back, avoiding the slice from his opponent. He followed up by bringing his own sword down in an overhead chop, which the other man blocked. "I just don't see why Edric is the one that gets a Valyrian Steel sword" the young man said.

"Your brother is going to marry Sansa Stark" Ser Samwell replied as the two of them returned to their starting positions. "It's only fitting that the future Lord of Winterfell return at least some piece of the Stark greatsword to the North".

The stocky Knight then swung at the young man with his greatsword. As he defended and dodged, Edwyn said "And I'm going to be the Lord of Highgarden one day; I don't see my father giving me any Valyrian Steel weapons". Ducking below a slice from Ser Samwell's greatsword, he quickly manoeuvred around the stocky Knight, holding his sword to the other man's neck.

The two of them got back into starting positions once more before attacking and defending. As they sparred, Nymeria watched them from the side of the room, her mouth open as her eyes went back and forth between them; beside her stood Ser Benedict Mooton, one of the three Kingsguard left behind in Riverrun. Ser Samwell's fighting style was slow and brutal, relying on the man's thick, broad physique in order to deliver powerful blows. Remembering what his father had taught him, Edwyn tried to quickly move around the Knight. He suddenly bumped into a wall, and belatedly realized that he was being pressed against a corner of the room they were sparring in. The young man tried to escape, but every time he tried, Ser Samwell blocked his path with his greatsword. Eventually, he was pressed against the corner, and after a few futile attacks, he yielded. "If your enemy is backed into a corner, they cannot properly defend themselves" Ser Samwell said as he took a few steps back.

No sooner had he said that then horns started sounding in the distance. Edwyn quickly exchanged a glance with Ser Samwell before looking out the window. The army in the camp below was erupting into a flurry of activity, and the young man asked "What direction is that coming from?"

"West" the stocky Knight replied in his deep voice as Nymeria walked over to his side. The large Direwolf gazed out the window, growling menacingly. Ser Samwell gently stroked her furry back, calming her down.

"The Lannisters" Edwyn surmised. "We need to get down there!" The two of them proceeded to make their way outside, and as they made their way through the halls, the castle of Riverrun came alive with men-at-arms rushing to prepare for battle, while the servants and everyone else rushed to their rooms. They rounded a corner, and as they passed the room where Sansa Stark had been staying, Edwyn spotted his brother.

"What's going on?" Edric asked.

"The Lannisters" Ser Samwell explained. "They're here".

Edwyn's eyes moved to Sansa Stark before glancing down at the table, noticing the Lemon Cakes. He returned to the task at hand as Edric joined them on their way to the armoury. On the way, they were joined by Visenya and Ser Ronald Storm, the third Kingsguard in Riverrun. "It would seem that Kevan Lannister has finally come" the beautiful woman said as they made their way to the armoury.

During the mad rush to equip their armour, Edric asked "So what's our plan?"

As Nymeria brought a gauntlet to Ser Samwell, the stocky Knight replied "By all accounts, the Lannisters outnumber us. We have to find a way to limit that advantage".

Edwyn suddenly stopped as he was in the process of strapping a greave onto his leg. "Wait!" he said, seized by inspiration. "I have an idea".

A few minutes later, Edwyn mounted his horse, along with his brother, Ser Samwell, and the three Kingsguard. Nearby, Maelion looked down at them, cocking his large head to the side as Visenya mounted him. His bronze scales glimmered brilliantly in the sunlight, and his golden wings made him look especially resplendent. "Do you know the plan?" Edwyn asked. Visenya nodded before she and Maelion launched themselves into the air. Edwyn and his brother then started riding toward the army camp, with Ser Samwell and the three Kingsguard in tow. The camp was completely empty; all the tents were still up, and many of the fires were still giving off bits of smoke.

After riding through the camp, the group camp upon the army from the Stormlands, gathered and ready for battle. Edwyn surveyed the situation: their army was drawn up in a more or less straight line, with pikes in front and archers behind. The Stormlanders didn't have any cavalry to speak of, but they were some of the most well-experienced soldiers in Westeros. The Tumblestone and Red Fork rivers were on either side, with the River Road in the centre.

"Here they come" Edric commented. Edwyn squinted in order to see far enough ahead. Sure enough, the Lannister army was approaching, and they appeared to have more men than they did. The two brothers exchanged glances, and they both rode their horses to the front of their army. "Men of the Stormlands!"

Edwyn looked out at them, at the faces of the men that they were about to lead into battle. Many of these men had fought for one King or another in the last war, and many of them had seen much death and destruction. "Those are Lannisters coming for us!" Edwyn called, projecting his voice as much as he could. "They're the richest pricks in Westeros! They think they're better than everyone else! Are you going to let them beat you today?"

"No!" the army shouted in unison.

Edric slowly trotted his horse along the front of the army. "The Lannisters are responsible for the last war. They plunged the realm into death and destruction through greed, brutality, and incest!"

The army shouted its agreement, and Edwyn said "They don't give a damn about anyone but themselves! They only care about their gold and their fucking legacy! Our father took his rightful place on the Iron Throne, and he took it from the greedy Lannisters! He understands the plights of all the people of Westeros! He cares about what happens to you and your families!"

Edric started to make his way back as he said "Our ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror, conquered Westeros with an army smaller than this one! Now let's start by conquering the Lannisters!" He then drew his Valyrian Steel sword, which he called Wolf's Howl, and held it high as the army shouted in unison, conveying the strength of their courage and conviction. Edwyn and his brother then rode their horses to the rear, behind the protection of the pikes and archers. Turning to Ser Samwell, Edwyn said "You will command the van on the left. I'll take the centre, and Edric will take the right flank".

The stocky Knight bowed his head before he made his way over to the left, Nymeria following close behind. "See you on the other side, brother" Edric said before riding off to the right.

Taking a deep breath, Edwyn watched as the Lannister army marched forward. He knew that Kevan Lannister was an experienced battle commander, so this would be a true test. The young man knew that he had to succeed: his father was counting on him and his brother to win the day, and a defeat would only harm his prestige. Edwyn gripped the handle of his sword, drawing up all the confidence that he could muster; he was the son of the Black Dragon, and he would burn his enemies.

The Lannister flanks were occupied by what appeared to be heavy cavalry, and with a horn blast, they charged. The thunder of their horses' hooves sounded across the area, but they weren't charging the pikes in front; rather, it looked as if they were trying to get around their flanks and attack them from the rear. Turning to his right, he could see Edric and the men on the right quickly forming so that they extended from an angle from the rest of the army in an effort to counter the cavalry on the right.

Suddenly, a monstrous roar sounded from above, and Edwyn looked up to see a blinding bronze shape shooting down toward the left flank. Maelion landed on the ground directly in front of the charging Lannister cavalry, proceeding to unleash a thundering roar. The horses instantly stopped in the face of such a terrifying sight; many reared back and fell over, taking their riders with them, while many others turned around and ran in the opposite direction. "Archers!" Edwyn called to the men in the centre. "Concentrate fire on those riders!" The men standing behind the pikes nocked their arrows before firing them toward the dismounted riders. The young man could see several horses being hit, as well as many of the armoured Lannister men. Suddenly, someone called out "Arrows!" A storm of arrows then started raining down on them, killing several archers. Edwyn's horse reared back before being struck in the chest. The grey animal then collapsed onto the road, dead, sending the young man rolling.

He was brought to his feet by Ser Eustace Hunter, who asked "Are you hurt?"

"No", Edwyn replied, "I'm all right". He turned to his left to see Maelion propelling himself forward with his vast, golden wings. The Dragon flew directly over the Lannister's right flank, breaking a torrent of Dragonfire as he did so. The men caught in the fire burned alive, and the men who weren't hastily crowded away from their dying comrades.

"My prince!" Ser Benedict Mooton called, pointing to their right flank from atop his horse.

Edwyn looked in that direction, and was horrified to see that some of the Lannister cavalry had managed to get around the pikes, and were currently attacking them from the rear. The young man turned to Ser Benedict and said "I need your horse!" The Knight dismounted, and he quickly got on the animal's saddle. "I'm leaving you in command of the centre!" He then kicked the horse forward, urging it into a full gallop alongside Ser Eustace.

Edwyn drew his sword, shouting as he charged directly into the Lannister cavalry. Many of the archers on the right flank had dropped their bows in favour of dragging some of the mounted men from their horses and stabbing them with arrows, but that was proving to be a difficult task.

Blocking an attack from a red-armoured man, Edwyn deftly struck the man down, trying desperately to locate his brother. Another man tried to take off his head, but the young man managed to back his head away in time. Ser Eustace came up beside him and stabbed the man in the neck, carrying out his sworn duty as one of the Kingsguard.

"Edric!" Edwyn called, looking around for his brother. He soon located him, and fought his way through. His twin was on the ground, his horse having fallen, fighting off Lannister swords alongside Ser Ronald Storm.

"Edwyn!" he called upon seeing him, slicing a man across the stomach. "What took you so long?"

"Oh, don't thank me for coming to your defense!" Edwyn retorted as he killed another man. The cavalry was slowly being wiped out, but their problems were far from over: the Lannister's left flank was driving toward them, likely wanting to smash through their weakest point. After cutting down the last of the Lannister cavalry that made it to the rear, Edwyn turned to look at Ser Benedict, shouting "Now!" The Kingsguard then gave the order to the men in the centre before relaying it to Ser Samwell on the left. As the Lannister army drove toward their right flank, the centre and left advanced, pushing toward the Lannister right and centre.

"Fight on!" Edric urged the men as they and the Lannisters clashed. "Kill every last fucking one of them!"

Fortunately, the Lannisters couldn't get around them anymore, for they were pressed against the edge of the Tumblestone River, which was the crux of Edwyn's entire plan. He heard Maelion roaring from afar, and hoped that Visenya and the Dragon were taking care of their part of the plan. From what he could tell, the battle was slowly working toward their favour; the Lannisters were slowly being pressed against the Tumblestone River, and their numerical advantage was being nullified.

The river was much swifter and deeper than the Red Fork, which is why Edwyn had picked it. As the battle raged on, he could see many in the Lannister rear being physically pushed into the raging waters, and he knew that his plan was working. With the army pressing forward at an angle from the right, and with Maelion pressing forward from the left, the Lannister army didn't stand a chance.

Soon, nearly all of their fighting men were either cut down or drowned in the river. The men of the Stormlands cheered upon the battle's completion, joined a moment later by Maelion, who lifted his large, bronze head up to the sky and roared. Ser Samwell rode up to him and his brother, Nymeria in tow; the Direwolf's muzzle was bloody, and the stocky Knight was also covered in gore. "We have won the day" he said in his deep voice.

"It's like you said", Edwyn replied with a smirk. "If your enemy is backed into a corner, they cannot properly defend themselves".


	60. Chapter 60 - The Dragon and The Kraken

_**At the Twins…**_

__Rhaegon flapped his golden wings as he landed on the ground beside the army. Drakon gazed out at the Twins, the identical pair of castles guarding a bridge over the Green Fork. It was the only crossing over the Trident for hundreds of miles, and House Frey never failed to collect its toll. It had also been the sight of the massacre known as the "Red Wedding', where Walder Frey and Roose Bolton turned on the Starks and slaughtered them. It was here where Kirth had died, and Drakon had come to deliver righteous retribution upon those responsible. He dismounted Rhaegon as Ser Loras and Ser Prester approached him. Across the river, the army of the Vale could be seen, encamped in front of the other castle.

"It won't be long now, Your Grace" Ser Prester assured.

"It better not" Ser Brynden added as he brought his horse next to them. "After three days, I'm itching to deal out some pain".

"Not to worry, Ser Brynden" Drakon replied. "Walder Frey has nowhere to go. He couldn't have gone north, because the Crannogmen of the Neck would slaughter him on sight, and he couldn't have gone south, because we would have encountered him by now". Suddenly, the gates of the castle opened, and several Frey men walked out. They carried none other than Walder Frey, bound and gagged, before throwing the old man on the ground at Drakon's feet. "My point" he said, smirking at the older man.

"We don't want no trouble" one of the Frey men said, glancing nervously at Rhaegon. "Please, take our father and leave us be".

Drakon crossed his armoured arms, glancing at each of the men standing before him. One of them, an otherwise normal-looking man, walked up to him, eliciting confused glances from the others. "Gerold" the muscular man greeted.

"Your Grace" Gerold Halfhand replied with a bow.

"What can you tell me?"

Gerold glanced at the Frey men, who were looking rather nervous. Pointing to the one with the noticeable limp, he said "That one's 'Lame Lothar'. He's the one who handled all the details for the Red Wedding, and that one", he said, pointing to another man, "is 'Black Walder'. He slit Catelyn Stark's throat".

"Thank you, Gerold" Drakon said, taking off his helmet and handing it to one of his men. He turned to the men-at-arms standing behind him and shouted "Kill every last Frey and servant in the castles and free all the prisoners!" They all shouted once before pouring into the castle. As they did so, Drakon turned back to Walder Frey and his vile offspring. Ser Loras and Ser Prester subdued Lame Lothar and Black Walder, shoving them onto their knees. The muscular man roughly grabbed Walder Frey by the hair, lifting him up and saying "Ser Brynden, he's all yours". He then threw the ancient head of the soon-to-be extinct House Frey over to the Tully Knight. Slowly walking over to the old man's vile offspring, Drakon icily asked "Now, I am going to ask you a question, and you are going to answer truthfully. Which one of you murdered my cousin, Kirth?"

The two men nervously glanced at each other before Lame Lothar replied "The minstrel? We didn't kill him; Roose Bolton slit his throat".

Feeling the rage boiling within him, Drakon quietly said "Thank you". He then grasped both men's throats with his clawed gauntlets, roughly dragging them toward Rhaegon. Throwing them on the ground, he said "_Ipradis_!" The silver Dragon looked down at the two Freys before devouring them both. As they both screamed in agony, Drakon looked to his right and saw Walder Frey's arms and legs being tied to four different horses. Once the ropes were secure, Ser Brynden gave the signal, and the steeds started moving. Walder Frey shrieked in agony before he was literally torn to pieces, his arms and legs leaving a bloody trail on the grass; his filth was finally gone from the world. Drakon then entered the castle, making his way through the dark, dank halls as his soldiers slaughtered all the Freys and the members of their household. Walder Frey had been so miserly as to let his castles fall into decline, despite his relatively vast wealth.

They soon entered the dungeons, where countless nobles and their relatives had been captured during the Red Wedding. "No, please!" a voice called from nearby. Drakon walked down the hall, coming to a cell where a few of his men brandished their weapons. On the floor, covered in grime and wincing from the torchlight, sat Lord Edmure Tully. Next to him stood a young woman holding a bundle of cloth in her arms, cowering in fear against a corner.

"Wait" Drakon said, causing the two soldiers to put their weapons away. The muscular man helped Lord Edmure to his feet. "Lord Edmure, I'm pleased that you're still alive. This must be your wife, Roslin". The other man nodded, and Drakon turned to regard her. This situation reminded him of what Ser Barristan had told him about the day when his mother had died: a frightened woman with her child, armed men threatening them both. Sighing, the muscular man looked at the young woman and her child. "Lady Roslin, by the laws of gods and men, you belong to the House Tully now. As such, I will allow you to live. Lord Edmure", he said, placing a hand on the other man's shoulder, "I hereby grant House Tully dominion over the Riverlands once again. You are the Lord Paramount of the Trident". Leaning in close, he whispered into the man's ear "Though I suggest you listen to your uncle's advice from now on; he's much smarter than you". He then turned around and, followed closely by Ser Loras and Ser Prester, walked out of the dungeons.

_**The next day…**_

__"I still don't like it" Lord Jason Mallister grumbled, holding his arm around his son, Patrek. Ever since Drakon had returned to Seagard with his army the previous night, the older man had never let his son out his sight, something that the muscular man could certainly understand.

"I understand" Drakon replied. "But this is the only way to deal with the Ironborn ships this side of Ironman's Bay".

"My family has been keeping the Ironborn in check for centuries" Lord Jason said, motioning to the bay of water that lay before them. "In all that time, we have never had to do what you're suggesting".

"You've never had Dragons, either" Drakon countered. "Trust me, this will work". The words had barely gotten past his lips when the immense bronze bell, housed within the castle, started ringing, signaling approaching ships. Beside Drakon, Rhaegon perked up, his neck frills flaring in excitement.

"There!" Lord Jason exclaimed, pointing to a spot on the horizon.

The muscular man gazed out at Ironman's Bay, and sure enough, he spotted them: at least several dozen longships, sailing across the calm waters. The thunderstorm that had raged when Drakon had taken Seagard from the Freys had most likely prevented the Ironborn from attacking the coastal settlement, but there was no such storm now. "I don't think the Ironborn will be expecting this" the muscular man said with a wry smirk as he took out the Dragon horn. He gave a single bellow with it, watching the Valyrian runes glowing as he did so. Rhaegon turned his silver head down to the item, leaning down in an effort to discover why Drakon had sounded the horn when he was right there. The muscular man gently ran his armoured hand across Rhaegon's head, whispering calming words. Down below, he could see three longships sailing out from the Seagard harbour. Jason Mallister had been irritated that a large portion of his House's fleet would be used for this endeavour, but he had relented once he understood the reality of the situation: the Ironborn simply had far too many ships, and enough experienced men to crew them. They would need an edge over the worshippers of the Drowned God.

"You're sure that the substance is secure in their holds?" Drakon asked, turning to the middle-aged man in scholarly robes standing beside him.

"Absolutely, Your Grace" the man replied. "The only way it could possibly go off is at the hands of those men". He said the last with contempt, something Drakon could understand.

They watched as the Ironborn fleet came closer and closer; as the distance shortened, it became readily apparent that there were close to 100 ships sailing toward them. In contrast, the three longships from House Mallister looked rather pathetic as they sailed toward the Ironborn. A few minutes later, the three longships were intercepted and boarded. They wouldn't find any crew to slaughter, for the ships were completely empty.

Most of the enemy fleet sailed around the captured longships, and once they were in the centre, Drakon smiled. He mounted Rhaegon, placing a hand on his thick, well-muscled neck as he said "_Sovetis_". The silver Dragon roared before launching himself from the castle, spreading his golden wings wide as he soared through the air. He guided the Dragon so that he flew toward the three longships from House Mallister in a straight line. Once they reached the first one, Drakon said "_Dracarys_". Rhaegon unleashed a torrent of Dragonfire, which quickly enveloped the three longships. As he did so, each one exploded in a brilliant green firestorm once, twice, and finally three times.

Once they had flown far enough away from the Ironborn fleet, Drakon said "_Kelitis_!" Rhaegon stopped, flapping his wings as the muscular man turned him around. The sight that greeted him was everything he could have hoped for: the three longships had created large explosions of Wildfire, Wildfire which Jayne had sent to him from King's Landing after he had lifted the siege of Riverrun, reducing many of the Ironborn ships with them in a fiery blaze.

Drakon had been inspired by the trick Tyrion Lannister had employed in the Battle of the Blackwater; but rather than lighting a trail of Wildfire with a flaming arrow, all he had to do was light the ships with Dragonfire. By his estimation, the Ironborn had lost about half of the fleet, with many more ships and reavers affected by the Wildfire.

There were still a great deal of enemies to deal with, though, and as Drakon had Rhaegon fly down to the harbour, he could see that the worshippers of the Drowned God were attempting a forced landing, despite the fact that they had lost half of their numbers in an instant.

Soon enough, the muscular man stood amongst the men of the Crownlands and the men of House Mallister as the Ironborn started landing on the shore. "Archers, fire!" he called, and he watched as hundreds of arrows rained down on the Ironborn, killing several of them before they could properly make it onto the beach. Turning to the men-at-arms behind him, Drakon drew Blackfyre and held it aloft, shouting "Take no prisoners!" He then charged along with the men behind him, beheading a raider with a single swing.

A vicious battle soon erupted, with both sides spilling much blood onto the wet sand. Blocking the axe of a raider, Drakon grasped the man's throat with his other hand and crushed it, letting the corpse slump down. Beside him, Ser Loras and Ser Prester killed their fair share of Ironborn, displaying their prowess with a sword. Hearing an agonized scream coming from nearby, Drakon turned to see one of his soldiers with a large, deadly-looking axe imbedded into his shoulder.

The owner of the weapon withdrew it before sinking it back into the wound, cutting the man in half. The bisected corpse fell onto the sand, and Drakon saw that this Ironborn was not like the others: he wore full plate armour, and his helm was shaped like a Kraken. This man must have been their leader, for he carried himself with an air of sheer ferocity that a raiding people would flock to.

Drakon made his way over to the man, bringing his Valyrian Steel weapon down in an overhead chop. The Ironborn commander blocked the attack, proceeding to kick him in the armoured gut. The muscular man staggered back a few steps before regaining his footing. "I've always wondered what a worthy opponent would be like" he said as he attacked once more. "I sincerely hope that you'll be more of a challenge than everyone else I've fought in my life".

"You'll find that the Kraken is not so easily bested this close to the water!" the man retorted as he swung his axe.

Drakon blocked it with his sword, proceeding to strike the man's Kraken helm with his elbow. As his opponent staggered back, he said "All creatures burn from a Dragon's fire". He then attempted a slice aimed at the man's neck, which he easily ducked under.

"Aye", the man agreed, "but will the Dragon get pulled under?" He then tackled Drakon to the ground, surprising the Blackfyre man with his strength. The Ironborn commander took the haft of his axe and tried to press it into the muscular man's throat, but the Black Dragon wouldn't die so easily.

Holding the axe with one hand, Drakon released his hold on Blackfyre and grasped the Ironborn's throat with the other, squeezing as hard as he could. For a few tense moments, the two men were at a standoff, until a monstrous roar sounded from nearby. The Kraken-helmed man looked up at the sky, and while he was distracted, Drakon let go of the axe, groping around for Blackfyre. Finding the handle of the sword, he gripped it tightly and struck the other man in the helmet, knocking him back. The muscular man then launched himself at his opponent, tackling him to the ground. Before Drakon could do anything, an arm wrapped around his throat from behind, squeezing it tightly. Backing up a few steps as the raider strangled him, he reached to the back of his belt, where his Valyrian Steel dagger was. Drawing the weapon, he tilted his head to the side and drove it into the other man's face. The arm instantly slackened as the corpse slumped onto the wet sand.

"I'll admit", the Kraken-helmed man said as he took hold of his axe once more, "you're one of the best fighters I've ever met".

"As are you" Drakon replied, brandishing his weapons. "It's taken me thirty years, but I finally know what fighting a worthy opponent feels like". He then dragged the edge of his dagger against Blackfyre's blade, creating a chilling sound that one would hear whilst sharpening such blades. "Thank you". He then threw himself into another attack.


	61. Chapter 61 - The Bones of Wolves

_**At Riverrun…**_

__Edric walked up beside his brother, watching as their father's army arrived from its foray north. Rhaegon flew overhead, and the silver Dragon swooped down toward them, his scales gleaming brilliantly in the sunlight. Once he landed, their father dismounted before walking toward them. Edric could see that he cradled a helmet in his arm, a helmet that looked like a Kraken. Visenya walked up to the muscular man, and they embraced in a passionate kiss. Edric felt his brother nudging him with an elbow, and the two of them smirked at one another. Their father then handed the Kraken helm and his own winged one to Ser Loras and Ser Prester before hugging him and his brother. "I knew you had greatness in you" he told them, and Edric beamed at his father's praise.

"We have a gift for you" Edric said to the muscular man, motioning to Ser Ronald. The Kingsguard then brought a bound and weary-looking old man in red Lannister armour, pushing the man to his knees at their father's feet. "Kevan Lannister, brother to Tywin".

Their father looked down at the old man with his amber eyes, a smile forming on his face. "Well done" he said, looking to the twins. "Edwyn, seeing as it was your plan that won the day, you should have the honour of taking this man's head".

Out of the corner of his eye, Edric could see his brother looking surprised. After a moment, he nodded, drawing his sword. He gently placed the blade on Kevan Lannister's neck, taking a deep breath. He then raised it over his head and brought it down, using all of his strength. The old man's head tumbled onto the grass as his lifeless body slumped to the side.

"Well done" their father told Edwyn, patting him on the back.

_**A few minutes later…**_

__Drakon walked down the hall, followed by Ser Brynden, Ser Loras and Ser Prester, and several Silent Sisters. The crimson cape clasped to his armoured shoulders fluttered behind him as he walked, and he eventually arrived at his destination. Gently easing the door open, the muscular man called "Lady Sansa?" He peered inside, and found the young woman sitting on her bed, working on a piece of embroidery. She turned to look at him and hastily stood up, looking rather nervous. Drakon could understand her feelings; he had, after all, started to build a rather ruthless reputation ever since he had claimed the Iron Throne. "As you may have heard, I journeyed north, to the Twins, where your mother and brother died". He motioned to the Silent Sisters, who brought in three large boxes before leaving. "I was able to retrieve their remains, as well as those of Robb's wife" he said, gently placing a hand on the third box. "By the laws of gods and men, she became part of your family".

Sansa Stark didn't reply; instead, she stared down at the boxes, at the remains of her family, as tears started running down her face.

Looking into her eyes, Drakon said "When this war is done, you will be able to go home. You are a Stark, and your place is in Winterfell. There, you can lay Robb, Talisa, and Catelyn to rest in the crypts, where they belong". Glancing at Ser Brynden, he proceeded to walk out as the older man embraced his great-niece. The muscular man made his way through the halls of Riverrun, passing servants and soldiers alike. Eventually, he came to a large room with a table in the centre. Around it sat his family and his generals, and a map of Westeros rested on the table, with specially-carved map markers representing the disposition of forces. Drakon sat down at the head of the table, placing the Kraken helm on the corner. "The Riverlands are now secure" he told the gathered individuals.

"I heard you delivered a crushing defeat on the Ironborn" Ser Samwell commented, stroking Nymeria's head.

"It certainly was a fierce battle" Drakon replied. "Despite losing half their fleet to Wildfire, they still fought on to the very end".

"I've overheard some of the men referring to it as the 'Burning of Ironman's Bay'" Visenya said with a slight smirk.

"Whose helmet is that?" Edric asked, motioning to the Kraken helm.

"That, my son, was the helmet of Victarion Greyjoy, commander of the Iron Fleet" Drakon replied. "He was one of the best fighters I've ever met. We must have fought for hours; after all the other Ironborn were dead, he was the last one standing. His skill and ferocity were quite a challenge. I finally drowned him when it was all over". He smiled slightly. "He was probably happy to visit his Drowned God that way".

The muscular man then stood up, taking a few of the Dragon markers that represented his forces and placing them on the Twins and the Ruby Ford. "I've left a garrison of 500 at the Twins with Gerold Halfhand, and I sent Lord Royce and the men of the Vale to guard the Ruby Ford. We now control the only two crossings over the Trident; with our northern border secure, we can now focus our attention on the west". He picked up the Lion map markers, representing Lannister forces. "With Kevan Lannister and his army annihilated, the Westerlands are ripe for conquest. Tomorrow, we march into their lands and take their castles from them. Every last person with the name Lannister in the Westerlands will die; their stain will be wiped clean, and we will take their gold and jewels and distribute them to the people of Westeros".

"A raven came last night, from the Reach" Visenya said, handing a letter to her husband. "Lord Tarly and Lord Redwyne have fully gathered their forces, and are sailing from the Arbor".

Drakon examined the letter, smiling marginally and saying "Excellent". He gazed back down at the map, going over the Westerlands. "Once we have overtaken the Golden Tooth, we'll carve our way through the Westerlands until we reach Lannisport. With the Lannister armies crushed, the city will be almost helpless before us".

"And what about me?" Lord Edmure asked, gently drumming his fingers against the table. "What is my role in all this?"

"You, Lord Edmure", Drakon replied, "have the difficult task of rebuilding your lands. Tywin Lannister and the Mountain reduced much of the farmland into burnt husks, and now that winter is upon us, your people will starve, unless we act now".

"So what do you suggest I do about it?"

Drakon sighed. "Fortunately, now that you're no longer at war with the rest of the country, you have access to food supplies. I'll send word to my daughter in King's Landing; she will have Lord Tyrell aid in your peoples' recovery". The muscular man started walking away from the table, and said "Just pray that you survive this winter".

_**In the mountains south of the Golden Tooth…**_

__Samwell Royce took a moment to gaze out at his surroundings, wiping some sweat from his forehead with one of his thick hands. Before him were the gently rolling mountains of the Westerlands, which served to protect the region from outside invasion, until recently at least. They were nothing like the mountains of his homeland in the Vale; those mountains were steep and inhospitable, as well as completely impassable, while the mountains he was currently traversing were a little more forgiving. The reminder of his home caused memories to rise to the surface, both happy and bitter; memories of a time when he had been the son of one of the most powerful lords of the Vale, as well as memories of the time that came after, when he had wandered aimlessly, with no purpose in life after his father had disowned him.

Shaking his head, Samwell glanced behind, and saw the long line of soldiers making their way through the secret path. King Drakon had charged the stocky Knight with leading the men of the Stormlands through the mountains and assault the heart of the Westerlands, just as Robb Stark had done years earlier, while he took the time to capture the Golden Tooth. It had taken him a great deal of time, but Samwell had finally discovered how the Young Wolf had bypassed the Golden Tooth: almost by accident, he and Nymeria had discovered a secret path that ran through the mountains, around the House Lefford stronghold.

As Samwell watched the army following him, the young Edwyn Blackfyre slipped on the edge of the path. The stocky Knight caught the young man in time, pulling him back and taking a moment to glance down at the steep mountainside. "You should be more careful" he admonished in his deep voice. "We wouldn't want you tumbling down these mountains, would we?"

The young man shook his head, smirking. "Thank you".

"Your father has been very good to me" Samwell replied, nodding over to one of the Kingsguard that had accompanied the young man. He then turned around and kept walking. "I can't let that kindness be repaid with stupidity". After a few minutes, Nymeria came from around a slight bend ahead, making her way toward him. The stocky Knight crouched down, hugging the large Direwolf as she licked his bearded face.

"How did you ever manage to tame this thing, anyway?" Edwyn asked.

As he gently petted Nymeria, Samwell replied "I saw it in her eyes when we first met: she had been alone, abandoned, wandering without purpose. Being forgotten by the world is something we have in common". Samwell smiled marginally before standing up. With the white and grey Direwolf by his side, he made his way through the mountain path, trying to block unwanted memories of his old life, and the love he'd once had for a young boy from the North.


	62. Chapter 62 - The Fall of the West

_**A few days later…**_

Drakon put on his winged helm, placing his Dragon circlet over it a moment later. He then mounted Rhaegon before saying "_Sovetis_". The silver Dragon roared before lifting off from the ground, flapping his golden wings as he flew over the landscape. Night had just fallen, and it was black all around; fortunately, Drakon knew exactly where he was going. As Rhaegon soared across the sky, the muscular man's thoughts turned to his children: Edwyn had gone with Ser Samwell and the army from the Stormlands to plunder the Westerlands, while Edric had stayed with him and the army from the Crownlands, supplemented by men from the Riverlands, when they had captured the Golden Tooth. Those boys were proving to be fine warriors, and their victory over Kevan Lannister at Riverrun showed that they had the makings of greatness about them. Drakon also thought of Jayne, and how she was faring at King's Landing, the very centre of politics and intrigue in the Seven Kingdoms. She was up to the task; ever since she was little, his daughter had shown herself to be clever, and Drakon had no doubt that she would survive being Regent for the time being.

The muscular man only wished that Jocelyn could be alive to see their children doing so well in such a brutal and unforgiving world.

Suddenly, his reverie was broken when he saw the castle in the distance. He smiled from within his winged helmet; when the sun would rise, the stain of House Clegane would be gone from the world. They soon arrived over Clegane's Keep, and Drakon said "_Kelitis_". Rhaegon stopped, flapping his wings in order to stay aloft. The muscular man then pointed at the castle and said "_Dracarys_". The silver Dragon reared his head back before thrusting it toward the castle and unleashing a brilliant stream of Dragonfire. The crimson flames shattered the black of night like a sunburst, and the light caused Rhaegon's silver scales to glimmer, only enhancing the effect.

Drakon belatedly heard a few screams coming from within the castle, but they were soon drowned out by the intensity of the flames. Eventually, the silver Dragon ceased the flow of Dragonfire, and the muscular man could see that a portion of the closest wall was completely melted away, while flames continued to burn all along the rest of the structure. The inside was completely consumed in flames, and Drakon doubted that anyone survived. With a smirk of victory, he turned Rhaegon around and had him fly back in the direction they had come from.

The following morning, the muscular man continued to sit astride Rhaegon as the Dragon slowly lumbered along the road, flanked by Visenya and Maelion and followed by his army. He had left Ser Samwell and the men of the Stormlands to besiege Casterly Rock, while Edwyn had returned to his side; the ancient Lannister fortress could not be captured via direct assault, at least not without massive casualties, and so Drakon had been forced to have Ser Samwell starve the garrison out. That left the army from the Crownlands and some men from the Riverlands at his back, and the army of around twenty thousand now marched on the largest city in the Westerlands.

When the city became visible on the horizon, the muscular man held his hand up, signaling the army to stop. Looking over to Visenya, he nodded, and she and Maelion shot up into the air. Turning Rhaegon around so that he faced the army, Drakon drew Blackfyre and shouted "When you get through the walls, kill every man with a weapon in his hands, loot any treasure you find, and make the city bleed!"

_**A few days later…**_

Edric leaned against the ship's railing, gazing out at the calm ocean waters before him. Taking a deep breath, his mind turned back to when they had sacked Lannisport. Growing up, his father had rarely spoken of the Sacking of King's Landing, and the young man now knew the reason. The city's fall had been inevitable; riding Maelion, Visenya had killed all the archers atop the walls with Dragonfire, while his father had reduced the main gate to ash with Rhaegon. Their army had then poured in, beginning the sack. They had faced a surprising amount of resistance; after all, the City Watch of Lannisport had been the most well-trained of all city watches in the Seven Kingdoms.

The fighting had been fierce, and the army had had to take the city building by building, cutting down City Watchmen as they plundered and looted the large city. As he had fought beside his brother and some of the Kingsguard, Edric had seen the full force of his father's fury as Rhaegon burned entire streets.

In the end, the city had been taken, every last member of House Lannister had been executed, and the Westerlands were all but conquered. When that had been accomplished, the fleet from the Reach had arrived and made harbour at Lannisport. The colossal gathering of over 300 warships from the Arbor was one of the most impressive sights Edric had ever seen, especially given the fact that the army it carried numbered 30 000. The Ironborn, the Boltons, and Stannis Baratheon, their only remaining enemies, didn't stand a chance.

"Have you ever fought the Ironborn?" a gruff-sounding voice asked from behind.

Edric turned around to see Lord Randyll Tarly, Lord of Horn Hill and generally considered to be one of the greatest battle commanders of the Seven Kingdoms. He was a middle-aged man, with a bald head, full grey beard, and stern features. He wore mail and boiled leather with a breastplate of grey steel, and he carried his family's ancestral Valyrian Steel greatsword on his back in a jeweled scabbard. "No" Edric replied. "Not yet".

Lord Tarly nodded. "The important thing to remember is that while they're fine sailors and raiders, they aren't soldiers. They have no discipline, no unity; every man fights for his own glory, and that is their chief weakness".

Edric nodded his understanding. He then turned his gaze to the other ships in the fleet; the plan was for him and Lord Tarly to lead the assault on Great Wyk, the largest of the Iron Islands, while Loras Tyrell led the assault on Old Wyk, mirroring the campaign of Robert Baratheon when he had put down the Greyjoy Rebellion over a decade ago. This time, however, Pyke would not be invaded; his father and Visenya would have the Dragons burn the Greyjoy castle to ashes, as per his declaration. The Ironborn would soon learn the price of rebellion, and they would know the power of the Black Dragons.

Soon enough, the fleet came fairly close to Pyke, and they stared at the Greyjoy stronghold; long ago, it was said that the castle had been built on a stretch of land that extended from the main island, but after centuries of weathering from the sea, it had been reduced to multiple spires that extended from the water. The points of the castle were connected by rope bridges, and it was certainly a sight to behold.

Two monstrous roars thundered from nearby, and Edric turned to see Rhaegon and Maelion soaring through the air, their silver and bronze scales glittering in the sunlight. The two Dragons reached Pyke in no time at all, and they immediately unleashed their Dragonfire. Maelion attacked the rope bridges connecting the different towers, while Rhaegon focused on the farthest one, melting it with ease.

"By the Seven…" Lord Tarly said, staring at the magnificent creatures with awe.

Edric could only smirk; he had gotten used to the Dragons after all these years, and others' amazement and wonder was quite amusing at times.

It took several minutes, but eventually, the great castle of Pyke was now a blasted ruin, just like Harrenhal. The tops of all the towers were completely melted, while fires still burned across the rest of the structure, a visible display of Blackfyre power. Eventually, as the fleet dispersed into groupings that headed to each of the islands, a large amount followed Edric and Lord Tarly to the shores of Great Wyk, the largest island of the lot. Off in the distance, as they came closer and closer, the young man could see many Ironborn on the beach, preparing to face them.

"Remember what I said" Lord Tarly commented. "These iron men fight for their own personal glory, and they have absolutely no unity".

Edric nodded, proceeding to turn around and shout "Everyone to the longboats!" The soldiers aboard their ship then made their way to the boats, and the men of the other ships could be seen doing the same. Edric sat down next to Ser Ronald Storm and several other men-at-arms from the Reach, while Lord Tarly stood at the very tip of the boat, displaying his complete disdain of their enemies.

Within minutes, they were under way, with what must have been a force of tens of thousands rowing toward shore. Suddenly, a veritable hailstorm of arrows started raining down on them as the Ironborn tried to hinder the assault. Edric covered his face with his hands, sure that a cluster of arrows would kill him. After a moment, he lowered his hands to see a shield with no less than five vicious arrows stuck in it. Glancing to his left, the young man said to Ser Ronald Storm "Thank you, Ser".

"I'm just doing my duty, my prince" the Stormlander replied.

"Show no mercy!" Lord Tarly suddenly shouted as the lead boats slid onto the beach. The Lord of Horn Hill leaped out onto the sand before drawing his Valyrian Steel greatsword and charging the Ironborn, attacking with a ferocity that Edric had only seen in his father before. Steeling himself, the young Blackfyre man stood and drew Wolf's Howl before rushing to join the fight. He didn't have to wait long, for an Ironborn reaver rushed at him with an axe in hand. Edric ducked below the axe, wheeling around and slicing the man in the back. He then turned just in time to dodge another axe. Before he could do anything more, however, Edric found himself tackled onto the sand by what felt like an ox. Grunting, he felt thick, sweaty hands wrapping around his throat, squeezing with incredible strength.

Gritting his teeth as he struggled to breath, he punched the Ironborn in the face, trying to dislodge the man's grip on his throat. As the young man started to see spots, the colossal man on top of him suddenly went limp, collapsing. Edric gasped, drawing an especially deep breath as the Ironborn was dragged off of him. He looked up to see Ser Ronald holding a hand. As he was helped to his feet, the young man said "That's twice now that I owe you my life, Ser".

The Kingsguard wiped the sweat from his brow. "As I said, I'm only doing my sworn duty".

"I suspect you'll have to do it many more times before we're done" Edric sardonically remarked as he and his bodyguard rejoined the battle.


	63. Chapter 63 - Captum Draco

_**One month later; at King's Landing…**_

__Jayne took a small sip of wine before asking "What news is there?"

"Your father and brothers have made astounding progress" Rona replied, folding her hands on her lap. "In a little over three months, they have liberated the Riverlands, conquered the Westerlands, and subjugated the Iron Islands".

"I guess all the stories we were told about Aegon the Conqueror were true" Ser Hugo commented.

Jayne nodded. Turning to Rona, she asked "Do we know where they are now?"

"In the North" the grey-clad Spymaster replied. "Your father and Visenya have taken a small force into the North via the Saltspear, while your brothers and Randyll Tarly are leading the majority of the army from the Reach up the coast. By now, they should have captured Deepwood Motte, the seat of House Glover".

_**At Deepwood Motte…**_

__"So far, everything's going well" Lord Tarly said as he stared down at the map of the North. Pointing at Torrhen's Square, which sat at the northern tip of a lake that was connected to the Saltspear by a river, the Lord of Horn Hill said "King Drakon and his wife have taken Torrhen's Square, which puts them not even forty leagues from Winterfell".

"And what about the Boltons?" Edwyn asked as he stood beside the older man. "Do we know where they are now?"

"The scouts assure us that their forces are still at Winterfell. They won't risk marching against us".

"A cornered animal is always the most dangerous" Edric countered. "Especially considering the Boltons' reputation".

"Aye" Lord Tarly replied. "That's why we're going to surround them; we take every castle and holdfast in the North and leave them no choice but to surrender. With your parents taking the keeps in the southern half, we'll focus on the northern half. But first, we must secure the Wolfswood".

"I'll take 1 000 men to liberate Ironrath" Edric said, pointing to a spot on the northeast of the massive Wolfswood. "We could use the Ironwood, and House Forrester could be a useful ally".

"Are you sure you don't want to take more?" Edwyn asked, arching an eyebrow.

The young man shook his head. "The Whitehill soldiers there won't be able to put up much of a fight. Besides, with the Boltons at Winterfell, there won't be any real danger".

"Fine" his brother said. "In that case, I'll take 1 000 men and head to the southern edge of the Wolfswood; there's supposed to be a few villages down there".

A short time later, Edric mounted his horse and, flanked by Ser Ronald, rode out of Deepwood Motte with 1 000 men-at-arms from the Reach. The young man focused on the road ahead as he and his relatively small force slowly made their way through the imposing forest. The Wolfswood was the largest in all of Westeros, and it had a fearsome reputation; Edric had grown up hearing terrible stories about the myriad of Direwolves and other mythical beasts that resided within it, lying in wait for witless prey. The young man dismissed many of the more outlandish tales he had heard, but he had to wonder: if Direwolves were real, then what else was?

Hearing a twig snap, he quickly turned to his left, his hand gripping the handle of his sword. After a few tense moments, nothing happened, and he forced himself to relax. Edric glanced behind him, and saw that the men following him were casting nervous glances at the forest all around them. Like him, all of these men had grown up in the Reach, so they would have heard the same manner of stories as he did.

"Have you ever been to Ironrath, Ser?" Edric asked the Kingsguard.

"I'm afraid I haven't, my prince" the Stormlander replied. "But I've seen firsthand how powerful Ironwood can be. Claiming it will be a great boon".

Suddenly, cries of distress were heard from behind, and Edric turned to see a few men lying dead, crossbow bolts in them. Not even a moment later, armed men emerged from the forest all around them, shouting as they rushed toward the men on the road. Drawing his Valyrian Steel Sword, Edric brought it down to his right, killing a man who tried to attack him. After a few moments, it quickly became obvious that they were outnumbered, and the young Blackfyre man could only hope for him and his men to escape.

Their attackers bore the flayed man of House Bolton. So much for the scouts' assurances, Edric thought to himself as he killed another man. He suddenly heard vicious barking coming from behind, and turned his horse to face whatever it was. A pack of at least three or four hounds were charging toward him. His horse started to squeal slightly as the snarling hounds circled it, nipping at its legs.

The grey steed reared back on its hind legs before it collapsed onto the ground, taking Edric with it. The young man hardly had time to find his bearings before the hounds were upon him. He felt a searing jolt of pain as one of the beasts clamped its jaws down on his arm, growling in anger.

Punching the hound, Edric tried to stand up, but was soon tackled to the ground by another one. It was all he could do to hold it back as it snapped at his face with its jaws. Suddenly, the hound stopped as a whistle sounded from close by. The creature growled at him as it slowly backed away, and Edric turned to see someone who looked to be only a few years older than him approaching, the sigil of House Bolton proudly displayed on his clothing. "We're going to get very acquainted with one another" the other man said, a psychotic glint in his eyes.

_**Two days later…**_

__Edwyn rode next to Lord Tarly as they and a significant number of men made their way down the dirt road that led to Ironrath. A number of men who had accompanied his brother came back to Deepwood Motte the previous day, saying that they had been ambushed in the forest and that Edric had been captured. They rode for several minutes, eventually stopping their horses as they came upon a horrifying sight.

Ahead, at least several hundred corpses were tied to trees along both sides of the road, running for a fair distance. All of them had been flayed, and their skinless corpses had attracted innumerable flies. Edwyn leaned over to the side and retched onto the dirt, his stomach unable to handle the sight.

"By the Seven…" Lord Tarly growled from beside him.

They continued to ride until they saw a corpse impaled on a spear that had been planted in the very centre of the dirt road. Edwyn dismounted along with Lord Tarly, and they both walked up to the defiled carcass. The smell was overwhelming, and the sheer brutality of it all made Edwyn's stomach churn. "Ser Ronald!" he quietly exclaimed upon looking at the face of the corpse, which still had skin over its face. The face of the former Kingsguard was permanently locked in an expression of complete suffering and excruciating pain.

A piece of parchment was nailed on the bloody chest, and it contained a simple, but ominous message: _Leave the North now, or the little Dragon will come home in pieces_".

_**Somewhere in the North…**_

__Edric was roughly shoved along, unable to see anything from underneath the black hood which had been placed over his head. His hands were bound, and rough hands maintained an iron grip on his arms. He heard voices, but couldn't quite make them out. It had at least been a day since his capture, but Edric couldn't be sure just how long. By now, hopefully, his father and brother were now looking for him.

After a certain point, the lights in the sky suddenly vanished, telling him that he was now inside a castle or some kind of structure. The young Blackfyre man was led through halls and down stairs until he finally came to a dark room where he was roughly chained to a wall.

One of his captors removed his hood, and he was finally able to take note of his surroundings. It was obvious from its appearance that the chamber was a cell, but he had no idea where he was. "It's not very comfortable, I know" someone said from nearby, the same man who had captured him back on the road. "But, for the time being, this is your new home".

"Who are you?" Edric asked, clenching his hands into fists.

"Who am I?" the other man asked in return, placing a hand on his chest. "Shouldn't I be the one asking the questions? I am, after all, your captor; there's a certain protocol here".

Before the young man could reply, footsteps were heard, and a number of men entered the cell. His captor bowed his head to the man in front and said "Father".

Edric turned to look at the man: he was of average height, and he wore a fur-topped cloak that was common in the North, except that the fur on his cloak had the skin facing outwards. He had close-cut hair, and a thick beard covered the bottom half of his face. However, the facial feature that stood out the most was his eyes; they were very pale, and something about them reminded Edric of death. The man slowly stepped toward him, staring with his haunting eyes the whole time. Suddenly, all the pieces fell into place, and Edric shuddered in fear as he whispered "Roose Bolton". He was now at the mercy of one of the most evil men in Westeros, and he now felt the true meaning of fear.


	64. Chapter 64 - A Father's Rage

_**At Castle Cerwyn…**_

__Drakon stared at the wall, his inner rage barely contained. "They have my son" he said through gritted teeth. Turning around, he regarded Visenya, Lord Tarly, and three of the Kingsguard. Edric was back in Deepwood Motte, and he had sent Ser Eustace as an additional bodyguard for his other son.

"I'm afraid so, Your Grace" Randyll Tarly said. "It appears that the Boltons ambushed your son and took him prisoner while he was on the way to Ironrath".

"And why did he set out with such a small force?" Drakon asked, his muscles tense and his voice icy.

The bald Lord of Horn Hill fidgeted in his chair a little. "The scouts assured us that the Bolton soldiers were holed up in Winterfell".

"The scouts" Drakon repeated.

"I've personally seen to it that they were flogged for their incompetence, Your Grace".

"And did that bring my son back?" the muscular man countered.

Lord Tarly sighed. "No".

"No" Drakon agreed.

"We are trying everything…"

"You are not trying hard enough!" Drakon thundered, slamming his fist into the wooden table and slightly splintering the surface. "My son is a prisoner of the Boltons, possibly the greatest sadists in the Seven Kingdoms! Do you honestly think that Roose or his psychotic bastard will just sit idly by while a new plaything awaits in a cell? The more time passes, the less Edric will be my son. The Boltons will break him in time, strip him of everything that makes him strong and unique!" Growling in frustration, the muscular man turned and walked out.

"My love", Visenya called, "where are you going?"

"To get my son back" Drakon angrily replied as he and two of the Kingsguard briskly walked away. Making his way through the Northern castle which was situated next to the Kingsroad, the muscular man fumed as he walked, not paying attention to any of the servants or soldiers that hastily got out of his way. Eventually, he came to the castle's courtyard, where Rhaegon and Maelion were lounging about. Drakon mounted the silver Dragon, ignoring the protests of the Kingsguard as he said "_Sovetis_".

Rhaegon launched himself into the air, leaving Castle Cerwyn behind in no time at all. As the large silver creature soared through the air, Drakon clenched the reins as tightly as he could. Losing Jocelyn and her unborn twins had been one of the worst experiences in his life; he didn't know what he would do if he lost one of his children piece of piece.

The closest he had come was when Jayne had been little. She had suffered from a fever during the Greyjoy Rebellion, and for a time, her survival had been in question. Luckily, his beautiful daughter had overcome her ailment; Drakon could only hope that Edric would similarly survive his ordeal unscathed.

Time passed, and Rhaegon swiftly crossed the distance between Castle Cerwyn and Winterfell. By the time he finally arrived at the ancestral Stark seat, the sun was rising, casting a pale orange glow on the grey Northern gloom. Drakon guided Rhaegon down toward the castle, and the silver Dragon soon landed at the front wall, digging gouges into the stone with the claws of his feet as he extended his long, thick neck forward and let loose a thunderous roar. "Roose Bolton!" Drakon shouted, calling to the castle's inhabitants. "I have come for my son! Bring him to me!" Whoever was in the courtyard hastily fled, while several archers along the wall took their positions.

Rhaegon dissuaded them from any rash course of action with a roar, until a voice called out "I'd advise you to reign in your scaled beast!" Drakon looked to his left and saw a young man walk out, with a hooked blade pressed against Edric's throat. The muscular man's heart ached at seeing his son in such a position, but he was glad, for his son bore the same inner fire which he himself had been born with. "We wouldn't want anything… unfortunate to happen, would we?"

"I take it you're Ramsay" Drakon said. "If you so much as cut a hair from my son's head…"

"Your son will not be harmed" another voice called out, an older voice, one with much more control. Roose Bolton then walked up beside Ramsay, crossing his arms as he continued. "If you agree to leave the North, then we will return him to you, unharmed and unspoiled".

Drakon scoffed. "And what kind of assurance do I have that you will keep your word?"

"None" the Lord of the Dreadfort countered. "If you and your forces do not leave, then your son will die".

_**On the ground…**_

__Edric gritted his teeth as Ramsay pressed the knife against his throat, perfectly aware that he could potentially meet any of a dozen excruciating ends at the hands of these psychotic flayers. He was extraordinarily pleased to see that his father had come; at the moment, he could think of nothing better than to fly away from this place and make the Boltons suffer. As Roose Bolton and his father spoke, Ramsay whispered in his ear "I must admit: your father's beast is very impressive. No wonder he's winning so much. No matter; after he flies away from here, you and I are going to get very acquainted, just like I am with my pet, Reek".

For some reason, the comment made Edric's bones chill; he had no idea what Reek could possibly be, except for another of Ramsay's hounds, but what he did know was that the joy the Northerner was expressing made him very, very concerned. "Release my son to me", his father called from atop Rhaegon, "and I will leave you be. The North will be an independent territory; you will have nothing to fear from me".

"A generous offer" Roose Bolton dryly remarked. "But that will not do. The minute I release your son, you will have my entire House burned to ash. Leave now, or he dies".

Edric could see the pained look in his father's eyes; the young man knew that he would do anything for him, his brothers, and his sister. One thing that his father valued above all was family. The muscular man had lost enough loved ones in his life, and he was not about to lose more. Suddenly, his father slumped in defeat. "Very well", he said, "we will leave".

Edric sighed, knowing that this outcome was not entirely unforeseen. Ramsay started to turn him back to where they had come from, and the young man tried his best to steel himself for whatever lay ahead.

Suddenly, a thunderous roar sounded from not too far away, drawing everyone's attention. Then, in that moment, Edric resolved to not simply lay down and accept defeat; he was the son of the Black Dragon and future Lord of one of the most powerful territories in the Seven Kingdoms. With a newfound fire, the young man capitalized on Ramsay's distraction and lifted his legs so that his feet touched the wall before pushing off, sending Roose Bolton's psychotic spawn crashing into the opposite wall. The other man grunted from the impact, and his grip loosened enough so that Edric could strike him across the face with an elbow. The young man then grabbed Ramsay's wrist with one hand while punching him in the face once, twice, three times.

Behind him, Edric could hear the sound of Rhaegon roaring before pandemonium ensued, but he only had eyes for his captor, the one who had flayed his men and Ser Ronald, a Knight who had saved his life on multiple occasions. The young man took the knife from Ramsay before turning and seeking out Roose Bolton.

Upon finding the Lord of the Dreadfort, Edric shouted as he tried to bring the blade down on the older man's neck. Suddenly, a sharp jolt of pain lanced through him as a crossbow bolt pierced his thigh. He cried out, dropping the knife as he fell to the ground, clutching his leg as he growled in pain. Before he could do anything else, he felt a hand tightly grasping his hair, which had grown considerably since the war had started. "Come with me" Ramsay growled. "We're going to go somewhere private!"

_**On the walls of Winterfell…**_

__Drakon slumped in defeat, saying "Very well, we will leave". With that, Ramsay started to turn his son back where they had come from when a monstrous roar was heard from nearby. It could only be Maelion, and the muscular man tried to look around for his second Draconic child. Suddenly, a commotion could be heard coming from below, and Drakon saw Edric fighting free of Ramsay's hold.

Feeling a newfound sense of hope, the muscular man smiled before his attention was drawn to the archers along the tops of the walls. Pointing to several of them, he said "_Dracarys_!" Rhaegon reared his large, silver head back before unleashing a potent stream of Dragonfire, setting most of the archers aflame. At the same time, Maelion suddenly appeared on the opposite side of the courtyard, making his presence known with a monstrous roar.

Looking down, Drakon saw Edric with a crossbow bolt in his thigh as he was being dragged by Ramsay back into the castle. "Edric!" the muscular man cried, feeling his heart skip a beat in his chest. Clenching his teeth in anger, he dismounted, stepping onto the top of the wall and drawing Blackfyre. He then made his way down the nearest guard tower as quickly as he could, his crimson cape billowing behind him. Walking out onto the mud, he was immediately beset by two Bolton men. Blocking the first man's sword, Drakon sliced him across the stomach, sending his guts spilling onto the ground. He then blocked several desperate and quick attacks from the second man before kicking him in the leg and sending him to his knees. The muscular man then drove his Valyrian Steel sword through the Bolton soldier's mouth until the cross guard reached his face.

_**In the dungeons of Winterfell…**_

Edric winced as Ramsay continued to drag him across the cold, stone floor. They had gone down a flight of stairs, so the young man could only assume that they were back in the dungeons. Even all the way down here, he could still hear the sounds of his father's Dragons battling the Boltons.

Eventually, they reached the cell where he had previously been held, and Ramsay released his hold on Edric once he was in the centre of it. "You're going to be sorry for what you did" the psychotic bastard menacingly said as he leaned over him. He then gripped the crossbow bolt in the young man's thigh, twisting and rotating it. Edric clenched his teeth as he cried out in pain, wishing that his father would hurry up and butcher the Northern bastard. Ramsay then straddled his chest, a psychotic gleam in his eyes as he said "I'm going to pick you apart, piece by piece". As he spoke, he drove one of his thumbs into Edric's left eye, gouging it.

The young man shrieked in agony, feeling his entire body radiating with pain as the blood and fluids ran down his cheek. He desperately tried to punch Ramsay, to get him off and make the pain stop. Unfortunately, it didn't, and the pain became so great that Edric wished he were dead.

_**Somewhere in the dungeons…**_

__Drakon head-butted another man, knocking him back before beheading him. Panting slightly, he stepped over the four corpses of the men he had just killed, searching the dungeons for Edric. The battle was still raging above, and he only hoped that it wouldn't be too late for his son. Suddenly, he heard a shriek of agony, and with a sense of utter dread, he recognized the voice. Following the shriek, the muscular man eventually arrived at a cell, and what he saw horrified him. Ramsay was on top of Edric, driving a thumb into his son's left eye.

"Edric!" Drakon shouted, entering the cell. Swiftly crossing the distance between them, the muscular man grasped Ramsay's hair with a clawed gauntlet, roughly throwing him to the other side of the cell. He then dropped Blackfyre on the floor as he rolled the younger man onto his back before straddling his chest.

"No one harms my children!" Drakon growled before placing his armoured hands on the sides of Ramsay's head and driving clawed thumbs into his eyes. The Northerner screamed as blood started flowing down his face, and Drakon stared down at him with complete and utter rage. He then stood up before driving his armoured foot into Ramsay's face over and over and over again, reducing the younger man's head into a crushed mixture of blood, bone, and brains. "_Valar Morghulis_!" he spat as he sheathed Blackfyre. "Edric!" he cried as he crouched down beside his son. He gently held his son's head while placing the other on his chest. Edric's heart was still beating, but faintly, and he had blacked out at some point. Drakon stood up as he carried his son in his arms, walking out of the cell.


	65. Chapter 65 - Conquest of the North

_**One week later; at Castle Cerwyn…**_

__Drakon stared out the window, taking a deep breath as the sun rose. Ser Loras, Ser Prester, and Ser Harras Harlaw stood guard near the doors, while Visenya stood next to him. His arm was wrapped around her waist, while his other hand repeatedly clenched into a fist. Eventually, the door behind them opened, and Edric stepped through, dressed in his armour. "Son", Drakon said, walking up to him and placing a hand on his shoulder, "how are you?"

"Fine" Edric replied, shrugging his hand off. He wore a strip of black cloth over his left eye, and his demeanor now seemed much dourer than it was before.

Drakon watched as his son walked over to the window, gazing out at the pale orange glow of the early morning. He clenched his left hand into a fist, holding it in front of his right eye; it was almost as if he wanted to ensure that it was still there, as he had lost all vision on his left side. The muscular man hated the fact that the Boltons had taken something like that from his son, and he swore that Roose Bolton would die in agony, just like his psychotic bastard.

_**Five days later; near the Dreadfort…**_

__Drakon squinted in order to see further ahead, and sure enough, there it was: before him was the Dreadfort, ancient seat of House Bolton and soon-to-be melted ruin. Rhaegon gently flapped his vast, golden wings as he soared toward the castle, a low growl emanating from within his belly; having seen Drakon as his father since he and his brother had been hatched, the silver Dragon instinctively saw the twins as his fellow siblings, and he wanted revenge on those who had hurt them.

Flying beside him was Maelion, who similarly growled as they approached the Dreadfort. Astride the bronze Dragon, Visenya looked over at Drakon, smiling in support. She had been part of his family for some time now, and he knew that the silver-haired woman had come to see Jayne and the twins as her own children.

They were all furious at Edric's maiming, and the Boltons would pay in Blood and Fire.

A few moments later, they finally reached the Dreadfort. Drakon leaned in close to Rhaegon's head and said "_Dracarys_". The silver Dragon stopped in mid-air, flapping his wings in order to stay aloft, as did Maelion. They both reared their heads back before unleashing powerful streams of Dragonfire on the castle; ever since they had become large enough to ride, their fire had slowly become more and more potent, lasting longer and burning hotter. Now, their fire was starting to match the potency of Balerion the Dread when Aegon the Conqueror had subjugated six of the kingdoms.

The Dreadfort was engulfed in flames, and the tops of the keep, towers, and walls were starting to melt from their sheer intensity. The Boltons would be yet another stain that Drakon would wash away.

_**On the ground…**_

__Edric watched with grim satisfaction as Rhaegon and Maelion's Dragonfire lit up the black night, engulfing the Dreadfort in purifying flames. After the week he had spent in recovery at Castle Cerwyn, the army had gathered its full strength and marched toward Winterfell. When they arrived, the ancestral Stark seat had been totally abandoned, and the Bolton army was nowhere to be found. The first thing Edric had done was visit the cell where Ramsay had imprisoned him.

The Northern bastard's corpse had been lying where his father had left it, and one of the first things the young Blackfyre man had done was to hang Ramsay's corpse from atop the front gate of Winterfell; a grim reminder of what happened to any who might do harm on him or his family. After that, Edric had found Wolf's Howl, and he now gripped the Valyrian Steel sword's handle tightly, never intending to lose it again.

With Rhaegon and Maelion burning the Dreadfort, Edric drew his sword, holding it high as he shouted at the top of his lungs. The rest of the army joined him, and the thunderous chorus of their voices ran across the landscape.

Before them, the Bolton army was practically helpless; their meagre force of only a few thousand could not hope to withstand the army of 30 000 men from the Reach. Edric urged his horse into a full gallop, leading the charge along with the Kingsguard and mounted Knights. Their thundering hooves drowned out nearly all other noise, and as the young Blackfyre man swung his sword down, killing a Bolton soldier, he could only think of vengeance. Within a few moments, the Boltons were completely overwhelmed, and the battle instantly became a slaughter.

Edric cut down another man, gazing out at his foes as he searched for one particular man. He found him a moment later, commanding from the rear: Roose Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort. The young man spurred his horse forward, cutting a swath through to his target. He soon rode up next to the older man, and the two of them proceeded to fight one another in a fierce swordfight. Edric could tell that Roose was skilled, for his attacks and blocks were of fine quality. However, he himself had been trained by Drakon Blackfyre, King of the Andals and the First Men, and greatest living warrior in the world. Swatting Roose's blade to the side, Edric sliced the older man's side before striking him in the face and knocking him off of his horse.

As the Lord of the Dreadfort's mount rode off in terror, the young man had his own horse ride up to his opponent. The black steed reared on its hind legs before bringing its front hooves down on Roose's face, crushing it like a grape. Edric would never have to see those cold, haunting eyes ever again.

_**Two weeks later; at the Wall…**_

__Drakon walked up to the front gate, followed by the twins, Visenya, the five remaining Kingsguard, Lord Tarly, and the army from the Reach. Castle Black, current headquarters of the Night's Watch, was looking quite run-down. The muscular man had known for most of his life that the ancient order of the Night's Watch had fallen deeply from what it once was, but he had to admit that it was worse than what he was expecting.

Turning to face his army, Drakon said "Kill no brother of the Night's Watch unless you have absolutely no choice. Kill only the men loyal to Stannis Baratheon. After today, we will have eliminated all of our enemies! The Realm will come to know an era of prosperity and the return to rule of those with the blood of Old Valyria. Blood and Fire!" He then drew Blackfyre, holding it high as the army shouted.

Turning around, Drakon led his men into the castle. As it had still not fully recovered from a Wildling attack around the same time he had taken power in the capital, the gate easily fell before them. His soldiers poured in, and Drakon and his family entered along with them.

All around them, the soldiers of Stannis Baratheon were being systematically slaughtered, while any black brothers who tried to attack were easily subdued and chained up. Drakon kicked a door in, making his way to where the Lord Commander's quarters were; that was the most likely place where Stannis himself would be.

As they rounded a corner, a number of Stannis' men rushed them. Drakon smirked from underneath his winged helmet, rushing to fight them along with the twins. Blocking the blades of two men, he shoved one against a nearby wall before stabbing the other in the stomach. The muscular man proceeded to draw his Valyrian Steel dagger and stab the first man in the neck, killing him instantly.

"You" a voice spoke from nearby. Drakon turned to see a woman with long, flowing crimson hair and red clothing. She was slender and graceful, with full breasts, a narrow waist, and a heart-shaped face.

"You must be the Red Priestess I've heard so much about" Drakon dryly commented.

The woman did not reply, slowly walking over to him as she gazed intently into his amber eyes. When she was close enough, she reached out and touched his helmet. "You have been touched by the fire" she said at last, her statement sounding like it was very significant.

Suddenly, Visenya appeared behind the other woman, holding a knife to her throat. "He is mine, whore" she spat before slicing Melisandre's throat.

Drakon gazed into his sister's eyes, and saw the complete and utter love in them; she loved him, both as a brother and as a lover, and she would do anything for him. He then turned to his right, and saw Stannis Baratheon standing at the end of the hall with several of his men. Drakon stared at the other man for several moments; though neither man said anything, they both knew that one of them was going to die this day.

Stannis and his men drew their swords, and Drakon rushed forward with his sons and Kingsguard. The large hallway instantly erupted into a chaotic melee, with both sides nearly equal in number. Ducking below a slice, Drakon pinned a Baratheon man against the wall as he stabbed the man through the stomach, killing him. Quickly glancing to his left, he saw Ser Loras and Ser Prester cut down nearly half of Stannis' men in under a minute.

As for Stannis himself, the twins were currently fighting him, keeping his attention divided between the two of them. As Drakon killed two more opponents, he could see Edric keeping Stannis' attention while Edwyn quickly manoeuvred around him, slicing his legs from behind. The Baratheon man cried out in pain as he fell to his knees, and Edric finished him off by stabbing him in the heart. Stannis Baratheon was now dead, and Drakon had finally made his enemies pay for their crimes. As Ser Harras beheaded the last man, Drakon said "Now all that's left is Stannis' army".

He then made his way to Castle Black's courtyard, followed by his family and Kingsguard. Once he felt the now-familiar bite of the Northern cold, the muscular man sheathed Blackfyre before taking out the Dragon horn. He gave a single bellow, which carried across the nearby landscape. A moment later, two monstrous roars sounded from nearby, and soon enough, Rhaegon and Maelion landed, causing all the soldiers who were close enough to hastily back away. Drakon put the horn away before mounting Rhaegon as Visenya mounted Maelion. The two of them then had the Dragons fly high into the air, toward the top of the Wall. Upon reaching the top, the silver and bronze creatures passed over the massive construct and proceeded to fold their wings against their backs and shoot down toward the ground, toward Stannis Baratheon's remaining army.


	66. Chapter 66 - Reign of The Black Dragon

_**Two months later; at King's Landing…**_

__"And what do you imagine your heraldry to be, Edwyn?" Drakon asked his son as he took a sip of wine. He and his children were sitting at the table in the Hand's Office, with the five Kingsguard standing guard around the room. They had finally returned to the capital, having won the Second War of Conquest in less than a year's time, and they were all taking a much-needed relaxing meal together.

Edwyn took a bite from the blood sausage on his plate, staring at a wall for a few moments as he thought the matter over. "House Blackfyre of Highgarden. Sigil: A black Dragon's head on a field of green, breathing golden thorns. Words: We Shall Reap".

"Excellent choice" Visenya commented. Her silver gown had recently been altered in order to show the recent swelling of her belly.

"I expect the Lady Olenna will approve of the change" Drakon added. "She's never liked the Tyrell heraldry. What about you, Edric?"

His other son didn't immediately reply, taking the time to finish the food on his plate instead. Eventually, he said "House Blackfyre of Winterfell. Sigil: A grey Direwolf on a white field with black Dragon wings. Words: Winter is Coming".

Drakon nodded, gazing intently at his son. Edric still wore a black strip of cloth over his left eye, and his new dour and grim personality had not withered in time. Inwardly, the muscular man almost thought that an appropriate temperament for the future Lord of Winterfell. He then turned to Jayne and said "As part of our alliance, I've had Lord Royce add black Dragon clawed hands to his House's sigil. I know that that may not be as prestigious as becoming a Lord of a Great House, but I truly tried to do the best I could for you".

Jayne smiled marginally as she replied "I know, father".

Just then, Mace Tyrell entered, along with Ser Hugo, Rona, and Simon. "It is time, Your Grace" the head of House Tyrell said before bowing.

Drakon nodded before turning to his children. "Are you ready?" he asked. The three of them glanced at one another before looking back at him and nodding their assent. "Very well, then" the muscular man said, standing up. "To the Great Hall". They all then made their way through the Red Keep, escorted the entire way by the five Kingsguard who all wore the golden armour and white cloak. Eventually, when they arrived at the large, double doors, Drakon nodded to the two Goldcloaks standing guard. They opened the doors, and the Great Hall was open to them.

It was nearly filled to the brim with courtiers and nobles from every corner of the Seven Kingdoms. Several Goldcloaks stood in the centre, creating an aisle. Taking a deep breath, Drakon stepped through into the large chamber as Visenya, who wore her Dragon circlet, held onto his arm, followed by his children and flanked by Ser Loras and Ser Prester. He wore his Dragon circlet, and wore tasteful crimson clothes, with the three-headed black Dragon of House Blackfyre proudly displayed in the centre. The Great Hall itself had a powerful energy coursing through it, as Drakon had had Jayne make some improvements: the skulls of the Targaryen Dragons were now hanging in between the floor and the ceiling, with the smallest at the doors until the largest one, formerly belonging to Balerion the Dread, which was suspended over the Iron Throne itself, while a large banner displaying the sigil of House Blackfyre was draped on the wall behind it.

As the muscular man walked, a herald called out "All hail His Grace, Drakon of the House Blackfyre, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, and Father of Dragons".

Drakon then took his seat on the Iron Throne as his family sat to his right, while his councilors sat to his left. Taking a moment to appraise the gathered crowd, the muscular man said at last "Today, the war has ended. I will now accept oaths of fealty from the Lords Paramount". Several individuals then made their way to the foot of the steps in front of the Iron Throne, including the twins. They all stood in a straight line, and Drakon glanced at each of them before turning to the man at the end on his left.

"Ser Harys Swyft", he began, projecting his voice across the large chamber, "I hereby raise you to the rank of Lord, and grant you the ancient seat of Casterly Rock, to be held by you and your descendants until the end of time. Do you swear fealty to me, and will you swear to serve me faithfully as Warden of the West?"

The bald man knelt before him. "I swear my fealty to you, Your Grace. I swear to serve you faithfully".

Drakon then turned to Ser Samwell, who stood beside the kneeling man. "Ser Samwell Royce, Knight of the Realm, I hereby raise you to the rank of Lord and grant you the ancient seat of Storm's End, to be held by you and your descendants until the end of time. Do you swear fealty to me, and will you swear to serve me faithfully as Lord Paramount of the Stormlands?"

The stocky man knelt before him. "I swear my fealty and my life to you, Your Grace" he said in his deep voice. "I swear to serve you faithfully and to never betray you".

"Princess Arianne Martell" Drakon said, turning his attention to the woman standing beside Samwell. She was buxom and beautiful, with olive skin, dark eyes, and long, black hair. While he had been away at war, Jayne had undertaken the difficult task of bringing Dorne back under the control of the Iron Throne; it probably helped that he had executed those people who had murdered their kin. "On behalf of your father, Prince Doran, do you swear fealty to me, and will you swear to serve me faithfully as Prince of Dorne?"

The buxom woman knelt before him, staring at him as she said "I swear my fealty to you, Your Grace. On behalf of my father, I swear to serve you faithfully".

Drakon nodded. When he had claimed the Iron Throne from the Lannisters, the thought of conquering Dorne had been out of the question. His ancestors had tried for 200 years, and it had brought them nothing. If reading history had taught him anything, it was that Dorne would be brought back into the fold through diplomacy. The muscular man then turned to Lord Royce. "Lord Yohn Royce, do you swear fealty to me, and will you swear to serve me faithfully as Warden of the East?"

The older man knelt, bearing the characteristic hard edge on his face. "I swear my fealty to you, Your Grace. I swear to serve you faithfully and to always serve you and your heirs".

Drakon nodded. The next Lord clearly hailed from the Iron Islands, and the muscular man said "Lord Rodrik Harlaw, do you swear fealty to me, and will you swear to serve me faithfully as Lord of the Iron Islands?"

The older man knelt, and Drakon knew that the man had no other choice; after the extinction of House Greyjoy and the Burning of Pyke, as well as the fact that his cousin now served as a Kingsguard and was within reach of Drakon's blade, the older man had to submit. "I swear my fealty to you, Your Grace", he said. "I swear to serve you faithfully".

Drakon nodded. "Lord Edmure Tully, do you swear your fealty to me, and will you swear to serve me faithfully as Lord Paramount of the Trident?"

"I swear my fealty to you, Your Grace" the head of House Tully said as he knelt. "I swear to serve you faithfully, just as my House served your ancestors in the past".

Next came the twins. "Edwyn Blackfyre", Drakon said, looking down at his son, "do you swear fealty to me, and will you swear to serve me faithfully as Warden of the South?"

Edwyn knelt. "I swear fealty to you, father. I swear to serve you faithfully and repay the trust you have bestowed upon me".

"Edric Blackfyre", Drakon said, turning to his other son, "do you swear fealty to me, and will you swear to serve me faithfully as Warden of the North?"

Edric knelt, staring at him with the hardened look that seemed to be his perpetual demeanor. "I swear fealty to you, father, and I swear to serve you faithfully. Your name and your traditions will live on through me".

Drakon nodded. He then stood up, gazing out at the gathered crowd. "Let this day mark the dawn of a new era. We have emerged from the fires of war, and we have become all the stronger for it. Let us put the dark memories of the past behind us, and focus on the future that lies before us. I swear, on the blood of my ancestors, that the Seven Kingdoms will become prosperous. We will work together to build a stronger realm!" The crowd then started cheering and clapping, and Drakon felt all the burden and guilt of his past dissipating, leaving a sense of sheer joy and hope in their place.

_**Later that day…**_

__Drakon slowly stepped through the library, running his fingers along the countless volumes shelved within. He sighed, closing his eyes as he smiled. His whole life had led to this moment, the moment when all those who had wronged him had paid for their crimes and the Seven Kingdoms had a proper ruler sitting on the Iron Throne.

All of his dreams had been realized, and he could not be happier. The muscular man kept walking for some time, luxuriating in the happy memories he had of this place. The library had been his home for twenty years; it was here where he had learned all about the history of his father's House and Old Valyria, where he had spent endless hours poring over book after book with Rhaegar. He came to a small corner of the library, and stopped to stare down at the floor. The memory of a teenaged version of himself and Rhaegar studying a thick tome rose to the surface, and Drakon smiled.

Turning to a nearby shelf, he picked a book at random, examining its cover as he sat down on the cold, stone floor. He then opened the book, and calmly read through its pages, taking no heed of the passage of time and reveling in simple pleasures.

**All hail the King! A little dull, I know, but it seemed like the best way to finish off Drakon's tale. Fear not! There yet remains one more chapter until this story's end, which I shall post tomorrow. Valar Morghulis! **


	67. Chapter 67 - Epilogue

_**In the east; at Meereen…**_

__Olene of Braavos rounded a corner as she made her way through the streets of Meereen. Having spent a long day guarding the Queen as she met with petitioners, the Braavosi woman was ready to lay in bed and sleep. The evening sun shone down from above, and the athletic woman made her way past Unsullied and citizens alike on her way back to her room. Suddenly, a boy, looking no more than ten years old and wearing simple rags, walked up to her. "Olene of Braavos" he said in highly-accented but passable common tongue as he handed her a sealed letter.

Olene looked down at the letter, her eyes widening slightly as she took note of the three-headed Dragon seal pressed into black wax. Looking up, she found that the boy had gone, and the Braavosi woman sighed.

With the letter in hand, she resumed her previous course, arriving at her room in due course. Closing the door behind her, she sat down at the room's desk, lighting a candle. She then broke the seal on the letter and unfurled it.

_Olene of Braavos, _

_It has been some time since I last wrote to you. Though recent matters have kept my attention, I know that you have been serving Princess Daenerys faithfully, which brings me to this letter's purpose. _

_I have claimed the Iron Throne of Westeros for myself. I am King of the Andals and the First Men, and I have the allegiance of all the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms. _

_I am writing to you to get you to speak to Princess Daenerys. Please speak to her, have her abandon her quest. By the laws of gods and men, I am the rightful ruler of Westeros, not her. She is welcome to come home and live the respected life of a Targaryen princess, but she cannot pursue her claim to the Iron Throne. If she still desires to rule, then she has free dominion over Essos. I do not desire the Eastern Continent, and she may do with it what she wishes. _

_I am entrusting you with this because I know that you respect the princess, and serve her faithfully. _

_Drakon of the House Blackfyre, First of My Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, and Father of Dragons. _

Olene stared down at the letter in stunned silence. She read it twice more in order to ensure that she had not read it incorrectly, and she knew that she hadn't. It appeared that Lord Blackfyre had claimed rule over the Seven Kingdoms for himself, and he now denied that right to the princess.

The Braavosi woman found herself unsure as to what her next course of action should be. On the one hand, it had been Lord Blackfyre who had sent her to the Queen, to serve her and to aid her in reclaiming her throne. On the other, she had sworn fealty to the Queen, and her loyalty was to her now. Suddenly, the door opened, and Kovarro entered, appearing every bit as tired as she felt. The Dothraki Bloodrider, upon seeing her, walked over to her and kissed her on the lips. "Are you all right?" he asked in his native tongue.

Standing up, Olene replied "I'm fine". She stared into the eyes of the man she had shared her bed with, the man whom she had grown to love. "There's just something I have to do". The Braavosi woman then kissed Kovarro on the lips before leaving the room. Making her way through the streets of Meereen, she found herself walking faster and faster, sure as to what she should do. Eventually, she arrived at the Great Pyramid, to the Queen's chambers at its very tip. Entering with Ser Barristan and Grey Worm, the Braavosi walked up to the silver-haired girl. She was standing out on the balcony, staring out at the city. "My Queen" Olene said, drawing the Targaryen's gaze as she held the letter up. "Lord Blackfyre has betrayed you".

The Queen took the letter, and proceeded to read it aloud. As she did so, Olene glanced at Ser Barristan and Grey Worm, noting the ever-growing concern on their faces. Eventually, Daenerys crumpled the letter in her hands, the rage in her face unmistakable. The silver-haired girl turned to Olene and the others. "This 'Drakon' has woken the Dragon. He shall pay for his betrayal with Fire and Blood".

**And so, this tale has come to an end. Thank you all so much for your reviews and favs! Whew; this little project certainly took a long time to do from start to finish. Do not despair, for I have a few more fanfics up my sleeve. Once again, thank you all. Valar Dohaeris! **


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